Valley of Rephaim
by Courtanie
Summary: In the five years since Heaven and Hell waged war, Damien has had plenty of time to recover and to plan his next steps towards getting his revenge. This time, however, there's more on the line for Kenny and Kyle than the mere human race. Sequel to 'Seven Candles'. K2/Dyle; N/C, Violence.
1. Prologue: The Awakening

_**A/N: Welcome to the sequel for 'Seven Candles', Kiddos! More blood more snarkiness more noncon because there's your warning right there do not say you did not get one please and thanks. And also more bible quotes because obviously I hate myself for setting that trend ugh. This is book two out of an eventual three. That's right we got ourselves a shitty lil trilogy. Get hyped. (or don't honestly I wouldn't suggest doing so urg).**_

 _ **Enjoy~**_

* * *

" **Vengeance is Mine, and retribution, In due time their foot will slip; For the day of their calamity is near, And the impending things are hastening upon them."** _ **-Deuteronomy 32:35**_

There was an ever-present darkness that he just couldn't seem to edge himself away from. Wherever he looked, regardless of whether he was staring at his ceiling in the confinement of his room or out in the blazing flames of Hell itself, the concept of light just seemed to be all but an enigma. For years he'd blamed it on his pains, dealing with a constant barrage of demons bustling in and out of his room to stitch his wounds as they broke open and seemed as though they would never heal. Curved down the length of his back and up his chest, Damien couldn't help but curse the angel who'd done this to him for making the simplicity of lying down an arduous task for so long. The marks on his arm and the back of his knee were in a constant low burn, pure blisters that no amount of cooling rags could quell.

It had taken a good two years, but he'd grown used to the feeling of fire that they pulsed through his veins. In a way it had turned into an addiction; a representation of the fiery _need_ he had to exact his revenge for the wounds, for the humiliation.

Something about the entire situation had become almost funny in his time spent alone just waiting for his body to cope. Damien had found himself thinking of that _stupid_ blonde and that _stubborn_ little half-bred demon that he'd conjured up, laughing hysterically into the darkness as he envisioned them; Standing there. Staring him down. Looking oh-so-cocky as they held hands and proclaimed victory over him. Looking like they were on top of the world, that they had saved the entire human race from Damien's clutches. After spending months apart, during a _war_ of all things, they still had to hold hands like the _pathetic_ souls that they were. He couldn't help but find it hilarious in the mess and muddle of the embarrassment of his loss, that he'd fallen to two creatures so pitiably weak without one another.

But the laughter waned as the third year passed him by, when he was finally able to walk again with limited assistance. When the gaping wounds were finally beginning to piece themselves back together and he could focus on something other than his ceiling for more than ten minutes at a time. Then the _anger_ began anew. The pure _fury_ that his father had suggested he press down to focus himself on his healing once more rose from the confines of his stomach. It made his throat clench, his pupils shrink in a sea of magma. He was beside himself, livid at the notion that his enemies were back home, that they were happy and in love and _alive_. They hadn't _earned_ such a privilege.

One of them was supposed to be long dead, a casualty at the end of Damien's claws. He was meant to be an angel with his wings torn straight off, begging for mercy before the demon could cut him short and easily accomplish the end goal. The other should have been right beside himself, scared and alone and hopeless as he watched Damien destroy everything he ever loved.

It had all been so _perfect_ in his ever-racing mind: McCormick down and out, Kyle on his knees waiting obediently for Damien's next instructions as the demon took hold of his goal and ripped Heaven apart at the seams. But now?

Now life had become worse.

Hell's traffic had slowed significantly, his father completely complacent with the fact that he was confined to be behind his desk in the same grueling task he'd endured for centuries. Demons had talked wistfully and regrettably of their lost war at first before shrugging it off and continuing about their routines. Five long years had passed since they'd been banished back to their realm, and now the war was rarely mentioned, brushed off as a mistake that they didn't have to admit to if they chose not to. When it was mentioned, it was greeted with an eye roll, as though it had been a _stupid_ notion all along and it was best forgotten about; Left in the annuals of time as nothing more than a fevered dream that had no chance of realization.

And there was so much more that Damien had been able to catch in his few trips outside of his recovery room. Talks of _him_ ; The redhead that Damien had snagged and cursed, had set ablaze with his own blood. The grandest mistake that could have been made and the ultimate tipping point that had sent the army on a fast spiral downward. Damien listened in secret when he could manage, hearing them discussing how maybe they would have had a chance had he not gotten greedy, if he'd done nothing more than kept Kyle mortal and used him as a mere shield.

But they were _wrong_.

Damien knew better than any of _them_ could ever know. He'd underestimated the man without a doubt, never would have guessed that he would have turned the tables so quickly. But he also knew that while _leaving him_ with Kenny had been a mistake, _changing_ him had not been. It had been the best of chances. And it had been nothing short of exhilarating to watch another being fall so perfectly under his thumb, send him to a battle to the death with the love of his life. If Damien hadn't made the simple miscalculation, if he'd swooped down and crushed Kenny's throat right then and there, then they would have won.

No doubt about it.

The noirette growled to himself as he clambered out of his bed, stretching with a small wince. The wounds had long turned into scars within the last year, standing out as a stark, raw pink against his ashen torso. His burns had calmed into an almost pleasant warmth, only temperate to the bare touch of fingertips. His father had been astounded at his recovery, telling him that his few scars, the ones that had struck him deeper than Damien's own, had taken nearly _ten_ years to scab over and reform.

But Damien knew well enough: He was stronger than his father. That much had been clearly evident as he'd taken the reigns over their war while the Beast hid behind his paperwork as he always did. And Damien was far from a fool. Satan spent so much of his time recovering sitting and talking with him, trying to convince him to just let all of his anger go, move on and just resolve to do his job once he was up and about again. He knew. He _knew_ that his father had been on the side of those _idiots_ for longer than he could recall as the war had grown nearer. It was the only explanation for his constant pleading for him to call off the battle, for his warnings that he'd gone too far, for his insistence that taking Kyle crossed a line that he would regret. It was no _wonder_ he'd lost his battle when his own father was rooting against him.

Damien shook his head, grabbing a shirt from his spired bedpost and yanking it over his wounds, crossing his arms as he stared out his window into the chasms of Hell, the flames curling in the distance and flickering against the smoke like a lover's kiss. The years had given him time to meditate, to reconsider, to _plan_.

The idea of giving up crossed his mind once and only once. And in that moment of weakness, he'd seen Kenny's shit-eating grin and the gleam of his sword. He'd heard the battle cries of the angel soldiers charging against his army. And he saw Kyle while he was still trapped down in Hell with him. He saw the tears, the agony, the _defeat_ that he'd procured before he'd practically handed him his freedom. That spiteful, wavering tone still echoed through his mind, the fear and fury beyond palpable and delectable to the senses.

He had been the one battle that Damien had won. And he'd be _damned_ if that victory was going to be forever swiped away from him oh-so-easily.

A smirk crawled up the corner of his lips, red eyes gleaming with a devious nature that had been nearly lost on him for half a decade. He followed a billow of smoke clambering into the robust clouds, a deep, husky chuckle vibrating through his throat. Once again, he could feel promise lingering in the air. He could taste the possibilities of what was yet to come. He'd had the time to plot it all out perfectly, knew _just_ the right way to accomplish his goal, to seize the power that he had damn well _earned._

That is, except for one element. The most _important_ of them, and the one thing that he knew he had to walk out with at the end of it all, or the plans were nothing more than moot.

Pale lids encased his malicious eyes, tufts of soft red hair and polychromatic eyes flashing in front of him. A low hum rumbled in his chest, claws delving into the meat of his palms. Time was fast approaching, all he had to do was find the best time and way to once again stake his claim.

' _Here I come, little mouse.'_


	2. Of More Value than Sparrows

**"Do not let your adorning be external—the braiding of hair and the putting on of gold jewelry, or the clothing you wear— but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God's sight is very precious." - _1 Peter 3:3-4_**

" _Physical Examination-_

 _Chest: Clear to auscultation, percussion, and palpation_

 _Heart: Point of maximum impulse in the midline. Regular S1 and S2. No S3 or S4 present._

 _Abdomen: Soft, nontender. No visceromegaly, masses, rebound, or guarding._

 _Neurologic exam: Alert and oriented x3. Deep tendon reflexes symmetrical. No pathologic reflexes._

 _Diagnoses–_

 _Spondylolisthesis_

 _Mild azotemia_

 _Hyperlipidemia_

 _Note-_

 _Patient suited for planned neurologic procedure for his spondylolisthesis._

 _End of transcript."_

Those familiar ending three words were pure music to the man's ears, finally prying off his headphones and sighing, prepping his transcript to be sent off to his third party employer before making its final journey off and away to the hospital that was to harbor this poor man suffering from his slipped vertebrae. Kyle let out a long hum, holding his face in his free hand as his mouse skittered about his desktop, minimizing box after box of medical terminology and reference guides trying to get to his inbox.

It was the same old story every day: Listen to doctor after doctor describing in monotonous tones just what their patients were dealing with, type and retype and fight with the spell check on his document and have a particularly muttered phrase repeated half a dozen times before he finally figured out the meaning. Kyle was always astounded by the amount of recordings that required that kind of effort, wondering how people _without_ heightened hearing like himself could come _close_ to deciphering their mumbled diagnoses. He had nothing but respect for those others in his line of work without his advantages, that was for damn sure.

A loud snore came from behind him with his ears free of their monotonous droning, looking back behind to him to see a large black lump sacked out on the sofa. He frowned, "Valefor, get off the damn couch!" he snapped. Valefor jerked up and practically fell onto the living room floor in shock, sitting up and shaking off his rude awakening. He glanced up guiltily at his master, trotting over to sit beside Kyle, head nearly up to the man's chest. The redhead looked down at him with a stern face. "Dude. You and Ken broke our last couch. Your fat ass can't cost me another damn sofa."

Valefor snuffed and laid his head on his lap. Kyle's scolding tone broke and he snorted at his pout, reaching up and scratching behind his ear, eyes flickering back to the glowing LED screen and clicking his tongue. "Can't afford more furniture on a transcriptionist salary, Buddy," he murmured almost to himself, continuing to scratch around his skull through his thin fur. His shoulders sank as he finally managed to send the report off to its destination, closing out of his programs and tossing his headphones onto his desk. Kyle sighed, green eyes drooping tiredly as he looked past the monitor to the wall, finding the space between his calendar and his sticky notes reminding him of particular deadlines and letting himself focus on the beige paint.

This routine was getting to him. Hell, it had been for the last four years if he was being completely honest with himself. Sitting at home alone all day until Kenny finally walked in was not where he thought he'd be when he was twenty-three and hopping into grad school as a man on a mission. But twenty-three-year-old Kyle hadn't the slightest _iota_ of an idea of what he'd become in only one years' time. Hell, Kyle doubted he had nearly enough imagination for even the wildest of his dreams to conjure up what had since become his reality.

And that reality was cruel and unusual, something that only one other person in the entire world knew about. Something that he had to cover with the guise of just 'being stressed' or 'randomly developing social anxiety'. Whatever got him out of having to deal with the public for more than the five hours his disguising spell allowed, he supposed.

But it had carried so many more problems over with him than he'd thought it would as their lives progressed onwards and he was forced to find a way to cope far quicker than he was prepared for. Limited spell time meant tightly wound scheduling, everything in his life revolved around that block of time where his incantation would wear off. The questions became endless: Wherever they were going, did they have a bathroom he could hide in? Were there any accessible supply closets if they got caught up and lost track of time? Was his phone consistently charged so his alarm would alert him that he had his five-minute warning to run and get himself out of public view? What if he saw someone about to die from something barreling towards them or being assaulted? Would he be a monster for not preventing it when he had the ability to save them? If he was discovered, what then? Would he be captured and put through experiments? Made into a weapon? Have his own life or those of the people he loved be put into question? Become the living embodiment of proof that the devil was in fact _real_?

Needless to say, the quandaries never stopped. It didn't take long for Kyle to become completely bogged down from the possibilities. He'd made it nearly a year before he finally broke, only a few days after he and Kenny returned to their old apartment from their honeymoon in the Pacific Northwest. Kenny had been talking excitedly on the phone to Karen about all the trees they'd been surrounded by and all the smells that were so different from home. Kyle had agreed from the kitchen as he'd cooked dinner, let the thought of the woods and its naturally spiced aromas settle pleasantly with the memory. He had let his mind wander to asking himself whether or not Kenny smelled everything as well as he did. If he'd experienced things that Kenny could never with his humanized senses. That had developed quickly into reminding himself that that wasn't the only thing that Kenny couldn't relate to. Which dug deeper into knowing that Kenny would never have to run, would never have his humanity questioned. That he wasn't part _monster_.

Kyle had completely fallen apart, realizing all at once why Kenny had suggested camping in the middle of nowhere for their honeymoon. It was so no one else would _see him_. So Kyle didn't have to keep his watch perfectly synced with his transformation. It was all so Kyle could be himself, or rather, what had _become_ himself. He'd just crumbled onto the floor, food abandoned and beginning to burn as Valefor had rushed over to him and barked for Kenny to realize what was happening. It'd taken Kenny two hours and three cups of coffee to calm him down and get him talking, scared out of his mind but relieved that Kyle was _finally_ opening up about everything. Nearly a year into their newfound lives was far too long for Kyle to get to that point in the blonde's opinion, but he knew not to push the issue. Knew Kyle well enough to understand that he would have to get there on his own time.

The conclusions drawn from their nearly five hours' worth of conversation were more than difficult to say the least. Kyle finally admitted to him his issues with going back to school, how even though his _professors_ didn't know he'd missed six months' worth of curriculum, _he_ did. He was having so much trouble catching back up to where he needed to be, too busy with juggling his bodily situation and keeping up appearances to focus his attention solely on his degree. He'd had far too many close calls with lectures being rescheduled, final exams ending only minutes before he was set to lose his disguise. He was constantly paranoid that he'd forgotten to hide something, if he hadn't marked his eye or covered the scars on his arms or the damnable pentagram forever tattooed on his hand. Kenny had done his best to find the solution that would help him the most, suggesting a gap year to get himself settled mentally while he rubbed his back and did everything in his power to keep him from falling again. Kyle had reminded him that a year wouldn't make a difference, that he was doomed to stay in this constant struggle for the rest of his life. Scheduling classes around his issues was near impossible with the way his required courses were laid out. He'd learned early on that performing his ritual early didn't buy him extra time, there were no rollover minutes. It could only be done when the last spell had faded, his body reset to be the canvas for his blood yet again.

It had killed him and nearly _literally_ did the same to his mother when he'd made the final call, Kenny as devastated as he was as he made the official phone call to drop out of grad school, abandon what he'd struggled so _desperately_ to get ahold of in his undergrad years. He'd wasted well over one-hundred thousand dollars in his two years of study. His parents were enraged; Their friends were absolutely flabbergasted that _Kyle_ of all people had become a _drop-out_. Kenny swore up and down they'd figure something out, get him into something again in the future. Kyle appreciated the sentiment, but just quietly asked him to come with him to bed and just let him mope for the night. He knew that this was it. He'd made the judgment that had to be made, the only one that made a lick of sense for someone in his unique situation: Hide. He'd just have to _hide_.

But, he did the only thing he could do about the situation: He took it as _mortal_ Kyle would've taken it. Head-on and straightforward, he'd delved into figuring out what he could learn from online schooling, what kind of jobs he could snag working from home. He'd stumbled onto the world of medical transcriptions almost right away, looking into the program and finding himself getting the slightest bit excited with the prospect. He'd sat Kenny down with him, explaining the field and showing him some sample work from the course, Kenny staring blankly at the word thyroarytenoideus the entire time Kyle rambled, trying to pick apart the word and nodding along as he spoke. Finally, he'd turned from his confusion to see red and green eyes alit with something of curiosity and an aching for knowledge and to _contribute_ and he had grinned, telling him to sign right the fuck up, he'd do whatever he wanted if it made him happy.

But that was over four years ago, and a _lot_ had changed in that time. Life began to pick up at a rapid pace only a few months after Kyle had started his schooling. New things came along, like the two of them deciding it was high time to get a house-for-rent so Kyle didn't have to worry about the closeness of apartment complexes and to get themselves more room. Kenny found himself snagging a full-time promotion at the mechanic's, both of them knowing that the extra hours were absolutely necessary considering everything going on.

Life was crazy, and Kyle could always feel that ringing in the back of his mind. It was an inescapable truth, never a dull moment despite the monotony of his job and what he'd tell himself. Because that horrific fact was always hiding under the surface of his skin, teeming with toxic blood and a ferocious power that took much more effort to control than he liked to admit at times. Being a man with a short temper did him no favors, Kenny often having to grab him and keep him away from someone making a passing comment to them about their relationship, hide his glowing eyes in his shirt and yell at them himself while trying to get Kyle away from them before someone ended up being tossed across town.

The redhead sighed, looking down at Valefor as he glanced up with his own disguised eyes, blood red hidden in a sheen of rich mahogany. He smiled fondly at the creature and patted his head. "Want your bone?" he asked, Val perking up and hopping to his feet, beginning to pant in excitement, large claws thudding against the carpet as he danced in place. Kyle snorted and got up, stretching and popping his back with a long sigh. He led the dog into the kitchen, trying not to let the massive dog step on his feet as he tore open their freezer and snagged out a long ham bone from its bag, laughing at Valefor letting out breathy yips and slobbering all over the floor at it. "Don't goddamn break a tooth," he said, same as he did every time and handed it off to him. Valefor ran back into the living room with his treasure and parked himself in his favorite spot on the rug, large teeth delving into the hardened marrow. Kyle turned to the fridge and grabbed a can of soda, ears perking at the doorknob jingling.

Valefor stopped his chomping, jumping up and barking loudly at the door before a distinct, _"Shut up, Val it's us!"_ rang through. Kyle smiled, putting his soda down and walking out of the kitchen as the door swung open, Kenny in the frame looking just too tired to deal with Valefor's shit. He smiled lazily, "Hey, Babe."

"Hey yourself," he grinned. "Where's-"

"Daddy, look!" a small voice perked from behind Kenny's legs. Kyle glanced down to a little curly headed blonde toddling her way over to him fast as her little legs could carry her. He smiled wider, reaching down and swooping her up as she ran into his arms, shoving a paper in his face.

"Whoa, whoa," he snorted, grasping it and glancing over. "What's this?"

She beamed, "Letters. I got 'em all."

Kyle glanced at the smiley sticker atop the page and kissed her forehead proudly, "Good job, Kat," he praised. "You're a better at writing your letters than Papa."

"Ha ha ha," Kenny drawled, kicking the door shut behind him and grunting as Valefor jumped up to his shoulders, listlessly patting his head and turning a bit so the large tongue hit mostly his neck. "Hello, Val. Please get down now you're heavy." He pushed the mutt to the floor and walked over to the redhead. Kyle put Kat down and let her hurry over to hug the dog as Kenny leaned down and planted a long kiss against his lips, stroking a thumb against his cheek. "And how was your day?" he murmured.

He shrugged, pecking him lightly, "Same as always. Yours?"

"Busy," he rolled his eyes, pulling back and kissing his forehead before moving to collapse lazily onto their armchair. "This lady walks in and swears up and down somethin's wrong with her damn Cavalier, right? Hears somethin' rattlin'. It was her license plate, Kyle. It was just loose. I tightened it and everything and she's like ' _That can't be it you don't know what you're doing',"_ he mocked in a high voice. "I hate people."

"Well, that's a family trait," Kyle smirked, walking over and sitting on the couch, letting Kat clamber up next to him and smiling down at her. "How 'bout you? How was your day?"

She rolled her eyes and Kyle shook his head, seeing far too much of Kenny with that and those glittering blue eyes of hers nearly two shades darker than his husband's own. "Mrs. Pendall hates me," she whined.

"She does not hate you," Kenny groaned. "Ky, tell her that she doesn't."

He suppressed a laugh, guessing the drive home from preschool was nothing but this fun little discussion. "Why do you think she hates you?" he asked.

"Rodney had to give everyone a cookie but me!" she insisted.

"They had cashews, Ky. His mom apparently didn't read the allergy list," Kenny rubbed his temple. "I bought her a cookie on the way home but she's really mad that Rodney didn't send her into epileptic shock."

"Anaphylactic, Ken," he snorted, looking down at their daughter amusedly. "Kat, Mrs. Pendall wasn't trying to be mean, she didn't want you hurt."

Kat pouted, falling over dramatically onto Kyle's leg and staring up at him pathetically. "Everyone hates me. _Ev-everyone_ ," she emphasized.

"Knock it off," he tapped her forehead gently. "Nobody hates you." He glanced up at Kenny and raised his brow. "She gets this drama queen thing from you, I hope you know."

"Yeah well she gets her smart mouth and her whining for my attention from _you_ ," he countered with a wink.

Kyle glanced down at her again and shrugged. "No one hates _you_ , but I think we can hate Papa."

She looked up in thought and nodded, "M'kay."

"I BOUGHT YOU A COOKIE!" Kenny protested.

"No buying her love apparently," Kyle smirked.

" _Yeah_ , Papa," she drawled, smiling up at Kyle. She tapped his arm, "What's for… for dinner, Daddy?"

His eyes lightened with the reminder. "Oh, right. Uncle Stan called. He's on the way to take you and Alex for pizza if you wanna go." She smiled excitedly and nodded. He grinned back, "Then go change shirts," he said, tugging on her white sleeve. "You're as messy as he is when you eat," he pointed to Kenny, whose face dropped.

"Why are you both so _mean_ to me?" he whined. Kyle snorted, whistling for Val to come over. He tore himself from his bone and hurried up to them with his stubbed tail wriggling. Kyle picked Kat up as she giggled and set her on Valefor's back.

"Mush," he said, lightly pushing him forward. Kat grabbed around his neck with a laugh as Valefor strode off towards her room.

The boys watched after her before turning to each other and Kenny grew a devious smirk. "Sendin' the kid away, huh?"

Kyle shrugged innocently, "Stan and Wendy have a coupon they wanna use. I'm just accommodating them so they can utilize their assets to the fullest potential."

"Uh huh," he cocked his brow, swinging up and out of the chair and strolling over, going deadweight and falling on top of the redhead, bringing him crashing onto the cushions with a hiss. He pinned him down and winked. "Or did you just want me all to yourself?" he purred.

He scoffed, "Not when you try crushing me, you fucktard."

"Ay," he pouted, pecking his nose. "Be nice to me. You _love_ when I'm on top of you," he waggled his eyebrows. Kyle began to roll his eyes, stopping halfway through and just laughing, sliding his hands up to cup his face and bring him down for a kiss.

He pulled back and smiled, "Are you upset that I'm a little selfish?"

"Oh dear god no," he assured him, kissing him again. "I so rarely get you naked anymore," he bit the redhead's bottom lip. "Outside our room anyway."

"Well a three-year-old doesn't exactly need to see your naked ass," Kyle scoffed playfully. "I'd rather we _didn't_ scar our child."

He looked down at him amusedly. "You're no fun," he teased, ducking his head down and nibbling on his neck. Kyle breathed out shakily, hand traveling the back of Kenny's neck into his hair and keeping him planted right where he was, their legs shifting to fit against one another fluidly. Kenny hummed against his skin, tongue lightly flickering out and dusting over the pale shade. "Missed you," he murmured, moving a hand down and shoving Kyle's right knee out, settling nicely between his legs.

Kyle grinned dopily, turning to nip his earlobe. "Last night wasn't enough for you?" he asked breathlessly as Kenny lightly ground down against him.

"Never is," he replied, biting his throat sharply, relishing in the hiss that seeped through Kyle's teeth and his body arching against him.

The redhead laughed, sensitive nose perking a bit. "You smell like a fucking grease monkey."

"I _am_ a grease monkey," he reminded him. "'Sides, you love me smellin' all rugged n' manly."

"Oh yes. Nothing gets me harder than you smelling like you haven't showered for eight days," Kyle said flatly.

Kenny pulled back and cocked his brow wryly. "Want me to go shower and leave you alone?" Kyle's face fell into a pathetic pout and he smirked. "Yeah. Didn't think so."

"Daddy?" Kat's voice called from the hallway. Kenny threw himself off of Kyle, nearly falling over the opposite arm of the couch as he tried to brush back his hair and look nonchalant.

Kyle snorted and sat up, trying to will his body back down. "Yeah, Hon?"

She walked out holding a blue shirt and pouting, "Is this one okay?"

"It's fine," he said, raising his brow at her attempting to put it on. "Uh, but not backwards."

"Huh?" she blinked.

"Not… ugh, c'mere," he waved her over. She toddled to him and he bent down a bit, twisting her shirt and helping her slide her arms through the sleeves. "There ya go," he smiled. She leaned up and hugged his neck and he wrapped his arms around her stomach and brought her up onto his lap.

"Val-forrrr," she called, the dog stepping out from the hallway towards her voice. She waved him over frantically, reaching under his collar and grabbing a small hairbrush and hair-tie tucked under the thick nylon. "Daddy can you do my hair?" she asked politely.

He laughed in slight disbelief as he looked between her and the dog before nodding, grabbing the materials and letting her turn on his lap. He shot Kenny a look of astonishment and the blonde grinned with a shrug. "She gets her smarts from you, Man. Even I wouldn't think of that."

Kyle smiled warmly down at her head, starting to drag the brush through her hair. "Whatcha want?" She paused, fighting for the word before looking at him and interlocking her fingers in demonstration. "A braid?" he guessed and she nodded excitedly, turning back around and petting Valefor as he licked her hand. He shook his head, gently fighting through small knots in her wild curls and sighing, feeling Kenny shifting closer to the both of them and playing on his phone.

The men leaned their heads against one another's as they focused on their separate tasks. Kyle let himself sink into the moment, a routine that was made so much easier when surrounded by his two blondes, by his favorite people in the world. The only ones that could make him momentarily forget just what he truly was. Sometimes it felt surreal beyond comprehension, flittering back and forth between recognizing he was part demon and sitting down with his husband and daughter and watching a Disney movie, cringing and laughing at their awkward harmony as they sang along. It was a precarious balancing act, one that Kenny had helped him learn to handle throughout Kat's life and even before. Sometimes he was just going to have to step away from the two of them, let himself sit alone in his and Kenny's room and watch his left eye fade back into red, stare at the scars that would crawl back along his skin like the bark of an oak. Kenny had pushed him to realize that he had to accept it before he could do anything else, spending the months leading up to Kat's birth coaching him through it so he'd be able to care for not only a newborn, but himself as well.

Kat's thick hair danced between his fingertips, threading three strands around one another in a motion that Bebe had sat Kenny and Kyle down to teach and forced them to practice time and again. He glanced over at his husband lazily scrolling through a Reddit feed. He couldn't help the smile on his face, the loveable lug cuddled up against him the only reason he could bear to get himself out of bed some mornings, see himself in the mirror. It was always easier to see himself without his magic with someone like Kenny holding him around his waist and murmuring sleepy sweet nothings against his hair. And fixing himself up and walking out to see Kat watching TV with her shoes on the wrong feet and a wide smile just for him was never exactly a hindrance either.

He tied off the end of her hair falling down to the middle of her back, patting her head. "All righty, Ma'am, you're braided." She turned and smiled gratefully before lazily moving off Kyle's lap, nestled into the space between her fathers' sides.

"Thank you, Daddy," she murmured, blue eyes flickering around in that distracted fashion that Kyle could only hope she would grow out of unlike Kenny. She glanced up at the blonde and poked him until he turned his attention down to her wide expression. "Papa can I play on your phone?"

"Sure, Kit-Kat, lemme-" he paused at a knock on the door, Valefor jumping up again and barking.

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Val, get back!" The dog growled and sat, staring intensively at the barrier as Kyle got to his feet and opened the door to a tired-looking Stan. The redhead snorted, "Man. You look like I feel."

"Adulting is the worst," he said flatly, moving his leg for Alex to come barreling inside and lop his arms around Valefor's thick neck, laughing at his tongue nearly covering his entire face. Stan shook his head slowly, "I swear to _God_ that dog gets bigger every time I see him."

The redhead shrugged dismissively, "Maybe you're getting shorter. Osteoporosis already hittin' ya, old man?"

Stan kicked him lightly, "The best part of that is I could be so hunched over I'm parallel to the ground and I'll _still_ be taller than you."

"Oh, so witty," Kyle mocked, looking up as Kenny fluidly slid an arm around his waist and shot the noirette a grin.

"Hear tell you're kidnappin' our kid."

Stan smirked, "Well considering how often Ky looks after Alex, it's the least we could do."

"Wendy guilt-tripped you, huh?" Kyle said knowingly, jerking a bit at a vibration in his pocket. He snagged his phone and noted the alarm, heart clenching in the slightest but trying to keep his cool. Kenny noticed the display and looked back at Stan, knowing well enough to hurry everything along.

Stan rolled his eyes, "It was _my_ idea, Asshole… mostly. Look do you want the night free or not?"

Kenny nodded frantically, walking over and picking Kat up from her babbling conversation with Alex. "Yep. Take her. We don't want her anymore," he held her out to Stan.

Kyle scowled, "Ken."

"I'm _teasing_ ," he drawled, kissing Kat's temple. "Be good."

"I willlll," she whined, squirming in the hold and pouting at Alex laughing up at her. Kenny put her back onto the ground, her dads watching her move over and snag Stan's held out hand as Alex secured the other.

Stan shot a wink at the two of them, "I'll bring her back eventually. We may catch a movie if that's all right."

"Please do, Kyle and I have _so much_ to catch up on," Kenny purred, getting an eye roll from the noirette.

"Why do I encourage this," he muttered, shaking his head. He tugged the kids' hands, "Come on, Guys. Say bye."

They waved frantically at them and called out their goodbyes as they tugged Stan back out the door. Kenny snorted, closing the door as they made it off the stoop, both he and Kyle watching out the window as poor Stan was dragged down towards his car. "No wonder he's already goin' grey," Kyle snorted, shaking his head at Wendy having to climb out of the passenger side to help hook the kids into their respective seats.

Ken shrugged, "That reminds me, Kat's gonna need a new booster."

He cocked his brow, "What? What happened?"

"She grew," he drawled, pinching his cheek lightly. "She's gonna be tall like Papa, you will remain my only little shorty."

Kyle rolled his eyes and flicked his nose. "Well she's gonna get taller than goddamn three feet regardless, Ken. And we don't know how tall her damn _sperm donor_ is, she may still be shorter than me."

"Bebe doesn't go for short guys," he drawled before pausing and shrugging. "Not ones that aren't flaming homos using her for a beard anyway," he winked.

Kyle sighed and rubbed his temple, turning from the door and heading back to the kitchen, snagging his abandoned soda and hopping onto the counter as Kenny dug through the fridge. "It was over a decade ago, will you ever let it go?" he whined, popping open his tab and taking a long sip of Coke.

Kenny shook his head, yanking a Sam Adams out of the door and handing it to Kyle with a pout. Kyle scoffed, grabbing the neck and digging his thumb under the cap, snapping it off into his husband's cheek before handing him the beer. Kenny rubbed the impact point and laughed. "Kyle, it was fucking funny. I'll tell that story on my goddamn death bed."

He cocked his brow, leaning back and taking another sip. "How was it funny?"

He cackled, "You couldn't even _kiss_ her without looking like you fucking inhaled a lemon, Babe. It was amazing." He shrugged, "'Sides, were it not for that, I may not've snagged that sweet ass of yours for myself," he reminded him. Kyle shook his head, laughing softly as they both focused on their drinks for a moment. It was true, much as Kyle hated to admit it. His inability to function with Bebe had led to him running from her house after she got too handsy one night, confused and angry and not knowing what it was that was turning him away. Stan had been with Wendy, so he'd ran through town to Kenny's house, begging him for some kind of help, to assist him in figuring out the problem. Kenny had solved the issue in one fell swoop, suggesting with a shrug that maybe, _just maybe_ , he wasn't into girls. After a good three minutes of Kyle angrily rambling that he was _sure_ that wasn't the problem and an impromptu kiss from the blonde to shut him up, Kyle had silently turned and walked out of Kenny's house back home. Locked himself in his room for two days staring at the wall and ignoring Kenny calling him nonstop trying to apologize.

Nearly a week had passed, Kenny tearing his hair out at fucking things up with Kyle, dealing with Stan giving him death glares, no doubt because the redhead had informed his best friend of the events that had transpired that night. It hadn't taken long for Kenny to crack, to beg Stan not to kick the ever-loving shit out of him. To admit how _everything_ he felt for Kyle just bubbled up into a moment of impulse when he saw he had a shot. Stan had just silently nodded, turning and walking around him down the hall of the high school, leaving Kenny to beat his head against his locker for five minutes until a voice had cracked awkwardly beside him in greeting. Kyle wouldn't even look him in the face, nervously twiddling his fingers and admitting that Kenny had confirmed what he'd tried to ignore. Eventually after him just going on and on, he'd blurted out with the question of going on a date, face beaming and people around them stopping dead in their tracks to see what would happen.

Never before in Kenny's life had he been so happy. And he didn't feel such elation again until five years later, when _Kyle_ was the one saying yes.

The reminiscing broke as Kyle let out a soft groan and cupped the side of his head. His jaw opened in discomfort, canines pushing themselves further out from his gums. Kenny watched with a heavy heart as scars began once more popping out of his skin, like the creature that Damien had planted inside of him was trying to break out. Kyle winced, eyes opening and blinking rapidly as his body tried to readjust to the stretching, left eye back to its vibrant ruby shade, standing out starkly like a beacon. The soda nearly slipped from his hands as his claws poked back into his palms and he sighed, setting the can down beside him and rubbing his eyes.

"Guess it's a good thing Stan came when he did," he commented flatly.

Kenny nodded in silence, stepping up in front of him and pushing his legs open, leaning between then and blowing fluffed red bangs away from his husband's face. "You all right?"

"Not like it hurts," he shrugged, dropping his hands, letting them fall between them and lightly play with Kenny's t-shirt. "Be pretty ridiculous if I wasn't used to it by now, ya know?" he said softly.

"But are you?"

Kyle paused, leaning down and pressing their foreheads together. "I'm fine," he assured him. "Just tired… and a sick part of me wants to go back to Hell just so I can scour their damn spells for something that lasts longer," he rolled his eyes. "Wish Heaven had more than they do."

Kenny nodded in agreement. "Well, won't find many _satanic_ spells in God's crib," he snorted. "But they have some of their little books with translations?" he shrugged. "Maybe you can snag one and _make_ a spell."

He shook his head, "I don't really get how they work, I just know how t' do 'em. With my luck I'd make an incantation that'd make me fucking impotent and honestly, I'd rather just deal with the fangs."

Kenny laughed, leaning up and kissing him softly, tongue easily slipping between said fangs and lavishing his mouth with attention. "That _would_ be a tragedy," he murmured, pecking him before backing off. He slid his hand up and down Kyle's thigh in a soothing, teasing motion, watching his eyes slowly beginning to smolder. "The kiddo's out," he reminded him cheekily. "You wanna order Chinese and then forget that we have it?"

Kyle chuckled, kissing his cheek and nodding softly. "Sounds good." He tapped him to back off, sliding off the counter and sighing. "Lemme just go… fix me," he gestured to himself aimlessly.

Kenny shrugged, "You don't have to if you don't want to."

He looked at him wryly. "Kenny I goddamn claw you bad enough with _human_ nails. And I doubt you like rutting against this," he pulled up his shirt and gestured to the topographical map over his stomach.

The blonde looked at the scars before glancing back at him and frowning. "You could feel like sandpaper and I'd still rut against you until my dick fell off," he said sharply. "You _hate_ that damn spell, you have an opportunity to forget about it for a few hours…" his shoulders dropped and he ran a hand up through his hair, putting his beer on the countertop. "Ky, if _you_ want to deal with it, fine. But don't for my sake. I don't care," he winced. "If you claw me open, you heal me and we're back in business. We've done it before."

He crossed his arms and shifted uncomfortably, "It's selfish."

"It's _not_ ," he bit. They stared at each other for a moment, long breaths breaking between them. It'd been _years_ since they had this discussion, Kyle always using his timing to his advantage and getting Kenny into their bed before he had the chance to shift back. It'd been a long time since he hadn't performed his spell right off the bat, always far too cautious with Kat running around. "Kyle," Kenny got his attention back into focus, grabbing a clawed hand and kissing it. "Come on," he jerked his head, starting to lead Kyle out of the kitchen towards their bedroom. Kyle blinked looking down at their hands, how Kenny flawlessly avoided his claws, how the scars lining his hands didn't seem to bother him in the least as he squeezed his palm. He flickered his eyes back up towards his husband, a sad smile playing on the edge of his lips and a gratefulness he came back to time and again rearing its head as Kenny turned them into their bedroom and led him to the bed, twirling him around and starting to lead him backwards with a lingering, sweet kiss.

 _What_ he was never mattered, regardless of what he told himself with his self-depreciation. What mattered was _whose_ he was. And he was Kenny's. Claws and all.


	3. Nor Will My Tongue Speak Deceit

"… **but we have renounced the things hidden because of shame, not walking in craftiness or adulterating the word of God, but by the manifestation of truth commending ourselves to every man's conscience in the sight of God."** _ **-2 Corinthians 4:2**_

The sound of the faucet running and vegetables being scrubbed filled the modest kitchen, the pleasant aroma of seasonings and chicken floating around the three bodies as they went about their night. Kenny's eye flickered over to Kyle, lost in his zone scrubbing potatoes and he smiled lightly before turning his attention down to the little blonde in the booster seat, swinging her legs and littering their kitchen table with crayons.

She looked up from her concentration, feeling him looking at him and smiling widely before turning to Kyle. "Daddy, what color is a parrot?"

"I'm literally _right here_ and not busy," Kenny reminded her, gesturing to himself with wide eyes.

She blinked, "Daddy's smart, though."

Kyle dropped the spud in his hand and covered his mouth, trying to conceal a bout of snickers as Kenny frowned, glancing between the two of them. "You _know_ , I'm smart, too," he protested. "'Bout… stuff."

The redhead turned and leaned back against the counter, smirking amusedly. "Stuff," he repeated. "What kinda _stuff_?"

"I know cars," he said primly, turning down to Kat. "And Daddy doesn't know shit about football."

"She wants to know _actual_ information, Ken," he snorted, shaking his head at his pouting. "Katlyn, be nice, he knows plenty. Ask him."

She rolled her eyes dramatically. " _Fine_ ," she drawled. "Papa, what color?"

Kenny crossed his arms and leaned back with a smug smirk. "They're red."

Kat looked at the redhead with a tilted head. "Is he right?" Kenny threw up his hands, staring at her in disbelief for her lack of faith.

Kyle laughed and shrugged dismissively, "Some are red, yes. But it can be any color you want. Pretty sure they come in every color there is."

"Thanks, Daddy!" she said cheerily, turning back to her work.

Kenny slowly looked up at his husband and his expression dropped wryly. "Stop turning her against me."

"I didn't do anything," he said innocently, walking up beside of him and leaning down to kiss him briskly. "Get her into football and you'll be 'the smart one'," he rolled his eyes.

"Football is gross," Kat said with a hum as Kyle stood back up and they looked over at her. "Alex plays and he says so."

"Oooh, that's gotta break Stanny boy's heart," Kenny smirked. Kyle nodded softly in agreement with a smirk, turning to go back to his potatoes.

Kyle snagged his fallen spud and blinked, "Oh, that reminds me. See if her ballet bill came."

"Right," he saluted, reaching back and snagging a pile of mail from the cabinet beside the doorframe. He brightened, looking down at Kat and teasingly hitting the top of her head with an envelope. "There's somethin' else. I know how t' fix your dance stuff. Daddy doesn't know how to sew at _all_."

Kyle rolled his eyes, "He's got me there."

"See? Papa knows the things that _matter_ ," he drawled. She laughed, lightly pushing his arm before turning back to her paper as he flipped through envelopes. "We get too many bills," he commented dryly.

"Welcome to adulthood, Kenny. Glad you could finally join me," Kyle scoffed.

"Such a funny man you are," he mocked, continuing to shuffle through before an ornately decorated envelope caught his immediate attention, turning it around to see both his and Kyle's names on the front. He raised his brow, tearing it open and glancing at the damask invitation lingering within, breaking into a smirk. "Well I'll be damned, Clyde's comin' into adulthood, too."

Kyle turned and cocked his head, "Clyde?"

He nodded briskly, "Got us an invite," he waved the card around. "Crybaby is finally gettin' himself hitched."

"To who?"

"Miss Annie Knitts, who else would it be?" he shrugged.

He snorted, "Jesus Christ, _finally_. I think they've been together longer than we have."

"Doesn't count when you take breaks every few months. And those breaks last a year or so," he chuckled. His eyes scanned over the information, clicking his tongue mindlessly. Valefor glanced up from watching Kyle cook at the noise, standing and moving to sit by the blonde, panting loudly. He turned down and frowned, "I wasn't calling for you, you doofus."

Kat twisted her lips at him denying her dog attention. "Val-for, c'mere," she waved her hand enthusiastically. His ears perked and he made way to her, relishing in her small hand patting his head and laying his head on the chair by her booster seat. She smiled at him, "Good boy," she cooed.

"Keep that up, Ken and Val's gonna love only me and her," Kyle warned. "You're the one who wanted to keep him so bad."

"Oh _please_. He's _your_ dog," he reminded him. "You would've probably left me if I said we couldn't keep 'im."

He shrugged, dropping his last potato into his colander and shaking the dish a bit to loosen some droplets. "You're the one who asked so I get to use it against you."

Kenny sighed dramatically, leaning back in his chair and looking once more at their invitation. "It's in two weeks," he commented.

Kyle frowned, "Who the fuck sends out wedding invites that late in advanced?"

"People getting married in South Park where the population is only about half of that of a regular wedding party?" he shrugged.

"Pretty sure you're way off the mark there, Ken," he smirked. He sighed and shook his head, "But I guess there's something to that. Since us and Stan and Wends are some of the only ones that got _out_ ," he scoffed. "Do we even have to RSVP or does it just come with the traditional South Park 'Ya ain't got nothin' better t' do. When ya git here make sure ya got Pabst'?" he drawled.

Kenny laughed loudly, "Stop insulting my heritage, Kyle. But unfortunately yeah, we need to call. So… you wanna go?"

Kyle paused, putting his dish down and turning around, "I… I don't know. Do you?" he winced.

Ken shrugged, "I mean, I wouldn't mind getting to see some of the guys again. Plus, Bebe's been dyin' t' see how Kit-Kat's doin'," he ruffled the girl's hair a little and she batted him off. "But I'll leave it up to you."

"Well, _no_ , that's not fair," he frowned. "But I mean… I-I'm gonna…" he glanced over at their distracted daughter and took a deep breath. "Need the schedule and everything," he said quietly. "Plus, travel arrangements. What do we do with Val? A-and are we staying in a hotel or my parents' place? Will she be staying in the room with us?" he gestured to Kat who glanced up, brows furrowing at the stress suddenly flooding the room from the redhead. "Maybe if you wanna go… you and her go and I'll stay here with Valefor," he gestured, the dog perking at his name and hurrying to Kyle's side, looking between him and the cleaned potatoes hintingly.

Kenny frowned, "Kyle, I'm not going without you."

"But you obviously _want to_ ," he stressed. "Clyde and I were never really close," he winced. "I'm sure my name is just there as a formality."

"He cried at _our_ wedding."

"He cries at goddamn everything," he rolled his eyes. He crossed his arms and shifted uncomfortably.

Kat looked between the both of them, wide blue eyes fluttering in concern. "Daddy? You okay?"

"I'm fine, Hon. I'm fine," he assured her with a meek smile.

She stared at him skeptically and Kenny looked down, elbowing her softly. "Why don't you go play in your room?" he suggested. "Let me and Daddy talk, hm?"

She nodded, not particularly wanting to be caught in the crossfire of what felt like an impending argument. She lifted her arms and let him help her out of her seat down onto the linoleum. "Can I watch a movie in my room?" she asked.

"Go right ahead," he nodded. "We'll call you when food's done."

"Kay," she said, making her way out of the room with the men watching after her, waiting for the soft sound of her door closing before slowly turning back towards one another.

"Ky, sit down and talk to me," he winced.

He sighed irritably, "Ken, I have to make dinner-"

"Then bring it over here and work on it," he demanded through gritted teeth. "We _need_ to talk."

The redhead paused, shoulders slumping guiltily. God he did _not_ want to deal with this. He'd been so damn good at avoiding it for so long. Damn Clyde and his inability to keep pace with the rest of their damn class. He sighed, grabbing his colander and half-assedly tossing it onto the table, snagging a peeler and tossing it at Kenny. "You're making me do this, then you're gonna be my potato peeler."

"Your Spudbitch," he grinned, Kyle turning and cocking his brow. Kenny faltered. "G-get it? Like… like Sputnik… It's funny because… communists."

Kyle couldn't help it, breaking into a small laugh and grabbing a cutting board and chef's knife, sitting across the table from him and shaking his head. "I'll give you partial credit for that one," he conceded, pausing and biting his lip shyly. "And full credit if you don't make me have this conversation."

"Nice try," he smiled sadly, gripping one of the potatoes and peeling off layers of muddied brown to reveal the shining butter shade hiding beneath. "What's holding you back?"

Kyle frowned, "You know damn well what's holding me back. Ken, this isn't an easy thing for me to plan for. I don't know if we have to be there prior to the ceremony. I don't know how long it'll be! What if the reception is _directly_ after the ceremony like Stan and Wendy's?"

"Stan and Wendy got married in the woods like the hippies they are, Annie ain't like that," he drawled.

"Okay, _Cartman_."

"'Ay," he raised his brow, tossing a finished potato his way and watching him beginning to chunk it. "But, think about it, Ky: You made it through Stan and Wendy's wedding just fine. And you were the best man!" he reminded him. "You had to be out in the public eye almost as much as the two of them and you managed to make it work. You did fine with _our_ wedding. You have five hours to kill with this shit, the ceremony or whatever won't last that long. And even if it does, no one is going to yell at you for going to the bathroom," he said firmly.

The redhead took a long breath, twisting his knife in his hands and staring at himself. "It's not just the wedding, though. What about Kat?"

"What about her?"

Tired eyes raised into his and Kenny's face fell at the loss lingering within them. "Ken… if we're all in a room together… what if she wakes up first?" he whispered. "What if she comes to get us up and… and _sees me_?"

"We get a hotel for us and we drop her off with your parents," he shrugged. "Sheila loves the shit outta her and Kat loves spending time with them. I'm sure they'd be happy to give us a 'break'," he quoted, rolling another spud his way.

He frowned, "Well what about Tweedledumb down here?" he jerked his thumb to Val's ignorant panting. "A hotel won't let us keep him with us. And if I'm not there to change his eyes he can't stay at my parents'. And god _knows_ he can't go into a kennel."

"Thennnn we send 'im up t' God?" he shrugged. "I'll off myself and ask Raph or someone to come down and grab him and Pip can watch him for awhile. He's pretty chill with that limey asshole. I'm sure he'd be fine with it. He did fine when Kat was born and the other trips we've made."

Kyle's shoulders sank and he shook his head, genially slicing potato and keeping his eyes down on his work. "I just don't want this to be a disaster," he murmured.

"It's not going to be," Kenny promised. "Ky, we have a system. That's how we make this work, how we always have," he shrugged.

"Well, _now_ , yeah," he scoffed. Kenny raised his brow and the redhead dropped his knife, putting his hands over his eyes and slowly rubbing. "Remember when the only thing we had planned was me finishing school and getting married?"

He smiled sadly, "Well, we grew up, Babe."

"This isn't growing up," he said exhaustedly, dropping his hands and staring at him straight-on. "Ken, I _hate_ having to live by pure schedule. At least… this rigorously," he winced. "I need structure not… confinement," he clashed his fingers against one another, weaving them throughout the others.

Kenny shrugged meekly, "I try to fix that," he said slowly. "I keep _trying_ to get you to do other things. Go out, do something new. But you're so fucking terrified that you're gonna lose track of time, the farthest you're willing to go is the damn grocery store."

Kyle took a shaking breath, tucking his hair behind his ear. "What would you do if I did? What would you do if someone discovered what I am? Hell, what would _I_ do? Just… let 'em take me somewhere to be tested on? Kill them so no one blabs? Kill _myself_ so shit resets? What would you suggest?" he demanded.

"I… I don't know," he said quietly.

He bit his lip, "And what if Kat finds out? What's she gonna think?"

Kenny narrowed his eyes, "Don't… don't you think she deserves to know? Not now but… when she's a teenager or something and can understand to keep it to herself?"

Kyle's face fell wryly. "Oh. Oh yeah. Sounds like a great idea. How do you propose we approach that conversation, Ken? How about… 'Hey, Hon. How was school? Ah that's great. So just as an FYI, your father is an archangel who fought a war against Hell and oh whoops the antichrist kidnapped me because of it and now I'm some weird demon/angel/human hybrid and it's pretty confusing but hey, we won the war. Whaddya want for dinner 'cause I'm feelin' burgers'?" he cocked his brow before he dropped his head and rubbed his temple. "Goddammit, Kenny, we discussed this before we agreed to adopt her."

"I know," he said softly. "But… shit changes. You didn't want her at all before you saw her."

"That's a fucking lie," he said sharply. "I just… didn't want a kid stuck… with a dad like me," he said, voice cracking. Kenny dropped his dinner duties and quickly moved to the seat next to Kyle, clutching him around his shoulders and rubbing his arm. Kyle leaned his head against Kenny's neck, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "She'd hate me."

"She could never hate you," he said softly, kissing his hair. "Kyle, she thinks you fucking walk on water."

"Hell, with the right spell I probably could," he rolled his eyes, getting a soft chuckle out of his husband.

Kenny sighed, nuzzling down against him. "We'll find a way. Break it to her gently, you know? She's already mature as shit for her age, she'll be able to handle it when she's older."

He shook his head, "God I can't even imagine," he muttered. "I really think it'd be best if she just never knew."

"And you spend the rest of your life hiding from her?" he asked. "Kyle, do you _really_ want that to be your deathbed confession to her?" he winced. "What if we decide to get us some other kids?"

Kyle backed up from him a bit, "Are you seriously wanting another one?"

He pouted, "What? You don't?"

"Not right _now_ ," he stressed. "It's hard enough hiding it from just _her._ Not to mention, the only reason we have Kat is because Bebe decided to get drunk and forgot the goddamn condom, Dude. We lucked out."

Kenny nodded, a small smile on his face. He remembered all-too-well Bebe calling him to meet her in town, alone. A full-fledged hour long tearful conversation brought about her story of a hook-up she regretted and three months of barely managing to hide how she was beginning to show. _"So I just was wondering…"_ she'd said awkwardly. _"You and Kyle looking for a kid? The guy was blonde, too… I'm pretty sure. We could… pass it off as a surrogacy from you?"_ she'd pleaded. She'd asked for only him initially, wanting to warm him up to the idea before Kyle could shut it down immediately, knowing the redhead well enough to know that he'd have qualms with taking in a kid so suddenly with only six months to prepare and rearrange their entire lives. Ken had been thankful for that, knowing the slew of other issues that Kyle would be working through.

Ken had been thrilled with the notion, promising to butter Kyle up to the idea. He'd planned it all so _well_ , too. A nice, calm day for them with nothing but sodomizing every piece of furniture in their apartment and ordering food and doing nothing but enjoying each other. Kenny had asked him if he'd be interested after he had Kyle nice and relaxed, calmly chewing through a slice of pizza. That piece of pizza had ended up slammed against his face. Kyle had panicked entirely at the idea, running through every single possibility that he could conjure up at once.

" _What if they see my fangs?! What if they hate me?! What if they find your goddamn sword or my books?! What if… what if_ _ **he**_ _comes back for me?"_ It'd only taken them one trip to Heaven for Kenny to resolve the latter crisis, sweet-talking the archangels and God for them to assure some kind of safety to any kids that they happened to have. The group had been more than happy to oblige, telling them both they'd be great fathers and leaving Kyle a blankly staring mess of a conflicted man.

Every _step_ they'd taken towards Bebe's due date had been a challenge for both of them. Kenny juggling both helping Bebe through her hormonal swings and Kyle's panicked frenzy. He'd always imagined it the other way around if they adopted, but that was long before fate had swerved them into the direction they found themselves in. Kyle had every _right_ to be scared of the possibilities, and Kenny had every obligation to soothe him from the calamity. From getting out of their apartment into their house, to awkwardly staving through a baby shower surrounded by the other guys as they watched confusedly as the women cooed and aww'ed at Bebe, a pile of gifts in the corner split between baby essentials and every goddamn liquor bottle known to man for Bebe to relish in once she was free to do so.

The men had learned something ridiculous in the six months they'd had to prepare: The _last_ six-month trial they'd had to endure was _nothing_ compared to the hell they had to fight through waiting for a child. Nothing but arguments, powers breaking doors and chairs over something as basic as choosing a name. A lot of long nights where Kyle would break down and try to talk Kenny out of what they were doing, shaking little baby clothes around and asking if he really thought something so small and innocent deserved to be forced into life with a _monster_.

Those nights were always the hardest; Kenny holding him as he cried, Valefor pacing around them anxiously and trying to worm his way between them so he could do his job and protect the redhead. Kyle would just clutch whatever random waiting item he found, apologizing time and again for making Kenny's life so much harder. Needless to say, such talk had broken Kenny's heart. After all, he wasn't stupid; it was _his_ fault that Kyle was what he was, regardless of how much everyone around him told him otherwise. He was the one that set the course into motion. It was a hard truth, one that he still refused to fully accept, but it stared him in the face time and again, he could never exactly run from it.

But, soon enough, the fighting stopped all at once, doubt gone from Kyle's riddled mind and Kenny filled with nothing but relief as they first got to meet the little girl they'd be taking home.

Kyle leaned his head back and stared up at the light fixture hanging above them tiredly. "What if she hates that I lied to her?"

"She'll understand," he promised, soothingly rubbing his neck. "Ky-"

"Or, _or_ ," he interrupted. "What if she fucking tells someone and they declare her insane?! Would I have to just… _show myself_ to everyone to keep her out of the nuthouse?!" The blonde blinked as Kyle groaned, leaning forward again and hiding his face in his palms. Valefor wedged himself onto his lap, staring up at him sadly. He rolled his eyes, snagging a few chunks of potato and dropping them onto the floor, raising his brow as Valefor refused to budge.

Kenny smiled sadly, "He knows you're bummed."

"Stupid mindreader dog," he muttered, patting the hellhound's head listlessly.

His husband sighed, rubbing his back. "Kyle, you're _really_ overthinking this."

"How? How could I _possibly_ overthink this?" he asked, looking at him desperately. "This isn't… me just wanting to tell her something like I'm getting fucking plastic surgery or something. It's not us explaining to her that she's biologically _neither_ of ours. It's 'hey, I'm a different species entirely'!"

"But you're still _you_ ," he said firmly. "Damn, Kyle I've known you a _hell_ of a lot longer than she has and-"

"And you watched this happen to me," he reminded him sadly, Kenny's posture dropping guiltily. Kyle bit his lip, "Ken, how do you think Stan would react? Or my parents? I can guarantee _they_ wouldn't handle it well at all and they've known me longer than you. And we're supposed to be raising Kat to tell the goddamn truth and I just can't fucking bring myself to do so," he looked back at his mutilated vegetables miserably and took a shuddering breath. "I… I had a dream a few months ago where we had another kid," he murmured.

Kenny cocked his head, "Okay?"

"Well. We actually had _two_ other kids. One was from your junk," he waved at him aimlessly. "A boy. Looked just like you and acted the same it was like my worst nightmare come true," he rolled his eyes, Kenny snorting with laughter and shaking him. "Then we… decided to try one from me. Because you were fucking determined as _shit_ for us to have a goddamn redheaded kid."

Kenny shrugged sheepishly. "Can't blame me, Man. I love your hair," he pulled a curl and watched it spring back into place.

"Well… you got a redhead. With red eyes. And… it clawed the surrogate open," he said, slinking lightly. "Just fucking… Rosemary's Baby only a shit-ton worse. It just… fought its way out and there was blood everywhere and… and you were so goddamn scared of it," he whispered. "Kat and the other kid ran, you went with them. Told me to take care of the goddamn demon kid myself and just left."

The blonde's heart clenched. "Holy shit. Kyle, I would _never_ do that to you."

Kyle held up his hand and closed his eyes, "I know. I know you wouldn't. My point is that this isn't a natural thing for me to be. And no matter how old Kat is… she's not gonna get it."

He shrugged meekly, "If we're being technical, I'm not exactly naturally blooded either. Angels ain't s'posed to be down here."

"No one prays to demons, though, Kenny," he reminded him solemnly.

"You're not just demon, though," he countered. "Hell, you're two-thirds _not_ demon. You know that."

He bit his lip, "But that one-third is still _there_. It's _always_ there… _He's_ always there," he looked at him with shining eyes. "I don't want her to be like me and see me but also see _him_ , you know?" he winced.

Kenny took a deep breath and turned in his chair a bit, staring at him straight-on. "Okay, can I be blunt here?" Kyle nodded slowly. "Stop it," he said firmly. "Ky, I knew that fuck… _long_ before we were together. Before we could even _think_ of being together. I grew up with him. I fuckin'… talked to him, had beers with him. Kyle, I considered that fucking piece of goddamn shit my friend," he said guiltily, watching Kyle's eyes echo with that hollowness for the first time in a long time, but pressing onward. "But I don't see _him_ when I see what you look like when the spell wears off. I see you. I see my _stupid_ fucking mistake, too. But never _him_. And Kat wouldn't either. Because you're _not_ him. I can't tell _you_ to stop seeing him, because I can't tell you how to think," he winced. "But I _can_ tell you that me and Kat love you, and we don't give a _fuck_ about fangs or claws or any of that shit. She just wants her smart dad and I want my bangable husband," he shrugged. "That's what matters."

Kyle broke into a sad smirk, leaning down on Kenny's shoulder and sighing, nodding softly. "Thanks," he whispered. "God, you haven't had to give me a gayass speech like that in years."

Kenny snorted, kissing his temple. "Well, you keep avoiding this talk with me," he reminded him. "'Sides. I got my gayass speech skills from you." Kyle laughed, hitting him with the back of his hand before leaning up and kissing him softly. They both looked down as Valefor deemed him happy enough to turn from his lap and attack the potato bits tossed onto the floor for him and Kenny smirked. "And Val will always love you, too."

"Val would love me if I grew webbed toes and went to live in the swamp," Kyle rolled his eyes. "He's going to be more of a baby than you and Kat for the rest of my goddamn life." Val turned from his eating and snuffed onto Kyle's hand, bopping his palm and the redhead sighed, going back to stroking over his skull. He looked back at Kenny and nodded softly. "Yeah, fine. Let's… let's go to Clyde's wedding. But will you set alarms, too? A-and help cover if-"

"You mean… same thing I always do?" he reminded him with a cocked brow. "Babe, of course. We'll get through this, we'll get Clyde a cheap, shitty gift for his probably six-month marriage, and we'll spend the weekend in a hotel bangin' out your insecurities. Sound good?"

Kyle smiled. "Sounds amazing." They pressed their foreheads together and took a deep breath, Kyle stealing a glance at the oven clock. "Hey, my spell lasts another four hours. Wanna save the chicken for tomorrow and take Kat out for dinner?"

Kenny smiled back and nodded, kissing his cheek. "We'll do whatever you wanna do. Whatever makes you happy."

Kyle grinned a little wider, wrapping his arms around his neck and burying his face into his hair, taking a long breath. "You make me happy." He heard Kenny snort in his ear and murmur a 'corny little fuck' before planting another long, wet peck against his cheek. Kyle sighed, opening his eyes and looking out of the kitchen in the direction of Kat's bedroom. _'Maybe someday,'_ he thought, huddling closer into his husband and relishing in the tender affection the blonde was bestowing upon him. _'Someday.'_


	4. The Devising of Folly

" **The wicked spies upon the righteous And seeks to kill him." -** _ **Psalm 37:32**_

It had been _far_ too long since he'd allowed himself a taste of indulgence.

He'd tried once about a year into his recovery, tried watching the little bastard who'd put him in his positioning. It'd led to nothing but an enraged fit, anger spiraling out of control and wounds splitting back open, leaving him near-paralyzed yet again. He'd made a decision on that day, opting to internally vow to not pick up the habit until he was recovered, until he had a full-fledged plan set in motion.

After all, he'd learned. He knew that getting himself over-excited of the possibilities from looks alone could lead to his destruction. That unbridled enthusiasm towards achieving his goals could all-too-easily disillusion him, make him see a fortuity that was not nearly as achievable as he'd led himself to believe. He knew well enough by now that seeing his little experiment led him down an emotional rampage, left his mind swarming with different paths he could take to get his hands back on _him_ where they belonged.

But such endless thoughts led to confusion, would push him astray into fields of unattainable kismet. Like his betrayer father had informed him whilst he was crafting his war path to glory: He got himself in too deep.

But not this time. No, no. This time it wasn't nothing but a pure thrill, it wasn't envisioning holding the world in his palm. He wasn't going to go for the top. He was going to do this the _right_ way, and work his way up from the bottom.

The _very_ bottom to be precise.

Damien closed his eyes for a moment, fangs scraping over his bottom lip as he mentally prepared himself for the delicacy he was about to enjoy. He'd been aching for it for _years_ , wanting to see the fate of his kindred soul. If he had been driven mad by his happenstance, if he'd found himself stronger, more durable to the weight of the world. Either option would have Damien resting well tonight, he could easily rework his plans to suit the needs of his target. Once again, the redhead was the variable that he depended upon, but this time, he was more than prepared for the craftiness of his opponent. He'd pictured him so well in his time laid up, found himself spending days at a time doing nothing but envisioning what laid waiting for him in the other realm. It'd been a growing concern of his father's, how the obsession still ran deep, how Damien would still murmur for the mouse to return to the cat in his sleep.

" _Damien, maybe it's time for you to refocus,"_ he'd tried to encourage him. _"Just buckle down on your healing and then you can redirect your energy into your duties down here when you're recovered."_

It had been _pitiful_ , Damien remembered with a sneer. The desperate _pleading_ in his father's tone. A timbre so disgustingly familiar from his war-hungry preparations that it made the noirette sick to his stomach. Because he now knew what that inflection in his father's voice stood for: _Weakness_. It stood for fear and distrust in the ability of his son. It was a pure beacon for the notion of double-crossing his own flesh and blood, aiding the man who'd just barely been turned to harbor the soul they now all three shared.

It was an idea that made Damien shudder, thinking that he could have the same spiritual essence flowing through him. It was the price he paid for his conception, he surmised. Born in the same manner in which Adam was formed from earth, Satan molding him from brimstone and a portion of his soul and infecting a jackal to gestate him; Let him burst into life with claws slicing through his mother's womb and dropping him onto the coal and ash as she fell dead. Satan had raised him with that constant reminder, that their souls harbored the same elements inside of what was naturally grown within Damien's time before birth, that they were always part of each other whether Damien liked to believe so or not.

He'd never understood Satan's pure obsession with repeating that phrase to him. That is, not until he himself passed on the lineage. It was a feeling of _power_ to be the one who first held the torch of who they were. Given, now it was spread within _four_ beings, one of which Damien did _not_ want to have such a connection to. But he supposed it mattered little. McCormick couldn't harbor the gift like the mouse could, it was only there as a fleeting light flowing through him, occasionally flickering but never staying lit enough to guide him in any way. No, Kyle had taken that brunt, and had further thrown his soul into a chaotic turmoil by taking on McCormick's own gifts. Damien was no fool when it came to the mystique of the soul, he knew that his mouse had done far too much to himself. A body could only take so much inner confliction, and the balance could be tipped if the right cards were played. It all depended on what assets were being utilized, and then he could let his favor play out however he wanted.

The demon took a steadying breath, a cruel smile creeping up his lips. He raised his hand listlessly, honing in on that oh-so-familiar pull guiding him towards his target, tracking him down at once and feeling a wave of nostalgia at the acquainted sensation. His hand flicked up with a snap, red eyes bursting open as he watched in thrill at his looking portal popping up before him. An over-excitement wavered the focus just a bit, biting his tongue and grin spreading at the blurred sight of those soft, red curls waiting for him.

Damien took a long breath, leaning back and sitting on his bed, watching in wonder as the vision steadily gained traction yet again. Kyle's bored expression came into his view all-at-once as he stared listlessly at his computer, typing away, unaware of just what was awaiting him within the realms of the underworld. _"_ My, my," Damien murmured hungrily. "Little mouse, you've _grown_."

He took in the sight all together, enjoying the full taste before his eyes began gliding to various features. Kyle's hair sat just a tad shorter than he remembered, but still thick and full enough for him to envision grabbing by the handful. Green eyes glimmered as brightly as he recalled from their first meeting, pure pools of jade settled well against a pale complexion. His arms were more lithe and toned, posture straighter and surer than he'd been as a captive. Long lashes still fluttered as he blinked, pearl teeth still habitually gnawed on his lip.

That was enough to tell Damien what he needed: His mouse was _far_ from broken. He'd grown used to his power, learned to hide it. Damien could feel the strength still swelling beneath his skin, how the toxicity of his blood still ebbed and flowed within his veins, those veins that he'd cradled and made his own. Kyle could take on all the angelic spirit he wanted, could put on spell after spell to alter his appearance, but he could _never_ escape the poison still so deeply intertwined with what he'd become in his time under Damien's hand. The noirette grinned excitedly, wondering if that still broke his and Kenny's hearts, if he would wake up in the mornings and think of him. If he could still see Damien when he saw his own red eye, felt fangs poking against his gums and claws prodding his palms.

He wondered just how much _hatred_ he felt, both towards Damien and _himself_. If Kenny blamed himself seeing his appearance, if Kyle harbored any resentment towards what his husband's fate had thrown him into.

And there it all was: The possibilities were just _overwhelming_. Damien was beside himself, swimming in the array of routes that Kyle had perhaps found himself thrust onto within the last five years. There was a plethora of directions, between hatred and acceptance, love and anger, _power and weakness_. But it seemed as though his mouse was _far_ from powerless, still holding himself high as he sat distracted by his work. Though a part of the demon, the part still dumbfounded and humiliated by his defeat, had somewhat yearned to see Kyle a broken husk of a man, he couldn't deny that he got a certain pleasure out of seeing just how well the redhead had adjusted to his fate. After all, adjustment meant acceptance, and Kyle accepting _what_ he was meant that he had to accept _who_ he was, and Damien of all people knew that he would never be merely himself ever again.

He grinned, crossing his legs, bouncing the top one lightly as he watched Kyle continuing to type away at his transcription, the appearance of boredom more than evident. "You're going to wish you could stay so disinterested," he murmured. The redhead had let himself fall into the monotony of life, let himself settle despite all of the things that he could do that the rest of humanity considered only to be the things of folktales. It seemed as though Damien was going to have to _reteach_ him just what he was capable of.

A sharp knock interrupted his gleeful wonderings, glancing towards his door and narrowing his eyes, feeling the familiar life force behind the barrier. "What?" he snapped.

The door was slowly pressed open, a gold-plated head poking in around the thick material. He cleared his throat, "Master Damien, I'm just here to check on you." Damien rolled his eyes, folding his finger and allowing Gragor to pass into his room. The demon cautiously stepped within the dwelling and shut the door behind him, carefully making his way over towards him. Dark eyes flickered to the vision as he rounded around towards Damien's side, catching the glimpse of red hair and his chest twisted. _'Oh no,'_ he thought miserably. He had _really_ hoped that Damien would have moved past this by now. But, he should've known better, really.

The antichrist watched him with a sly smirk, "So, remember our little friend?"

He nodded solemnly, "That I do." Yes, he remembered him _all_ too well. The little mutt who'd helped conquer their army, had sent them all falling back onto ashy ground to resume their monotonous lives. The one who'd played such a part in their second-in-line's personal destruction, had made the entire realm question whether or not he'd ever be able to make a recovery. The scars he'd impacted, both on Damien and on the domain as a whole, were still seen, were still talked about in passing. He'd been on the frontline for a whirlwind of chaos and had guided the winds of change himself, both him _and_ that moronic immortal he was so attached to.

"So," Damien cut into his loathing and got his attention redirected back onto himself. "I know that look, Gragor. What has you so concerned?" he cocked his brow, sharp eyes slicing against his minion. Gragor knew that look well enough, that silent warning to tread very lightly, to select his words with care, lest he tap into Damien's easily riled temperament.

The demon gulped, charcoal wings snapping behind him in tension, paws folding behind his back as he forced himself to take a breath. He knew exactly what was wrong with what he'd walked in on, but also knew that he couldn't voice such concerns. He'd watched Damien's obsession fester, only seeing life sparking through him as he laid nearly slain when he'd mumble out the topic of the redhead. Anger and possessiveness ran deep within the recollections, pushed Damien to the brink of emotion his compromised health allowed him to reach. He'd sat and helped dress his wounds with Timpetan, both of them exchange worried glances as Damien would murmur out half-baked plans of revenge, just what he would do if he could grab his prize yet again. Half of the time, his words were completely incomprehensible, but his tone spoke well enough of the ill-will he was yearning to put the redhead through yet again, make damn sure that Kenny would be watching it all happen to him. He'd learned it was the best, the most efficient way to make both of them suffer, and he had no qualms with repeating such a tried and true method.

"Master Damien," he started slowly, eyes peeling off of the distracted third-breed and back onto his ruler. "You've only _just_ found yourself upright again. Shouldn't this kind of path wait just awhile longer?"

"He's had five years," Damien reminded him bitterly. "Five _years_ of me being laid up while he and that fucking angel prick _lived_. He's had far too long a serendipitous life, he needs put back into his place."

The demon winced, "Okay but… perhaps it's best to… to let him _internally_ suffer," he tried. "Master Damien, McCormick has not lost his own powers in the time you've been wounded. He will not allow you to escape alive again should you go for the... mixed breed," he said with disgust.

The noirette snorted, glancing over at him with a smirk, "Oh, Gragor. He's not going to get a choice in the matter. I made a simple miscalculation last time," he shrugged casually. "I made the wrong person my goal. This time, McCormick isn't even part of the equation. Not until much _much_ later down the line," he grinned deviously. "And by that point, little mouse will be so far torn from himself that even McCormick won't make a difference."

He shifted uncomfortably, looking back at the lean form on the other side of the portal. "You said that last time as well," he reminded him quietly, flinching at a sharp look from his better. "Master Damien, I'm just trying to look out for your best interests," he insisted.

"My best interest is to take back what belongs to _me_ ," he hissed. "I allowed my last mistakes to happen. Believe me when I tell you that I _won't_ let it happen again."

They both turned their attention back towards the portal as a soft, _"Oh for fuck's sake,"_ broke between their tense argument. Damien's eyes brightened, smile forming yet again as Kyle cringed in the slightest, fangs and claws beginning to regrow and eye losing its false hue. The redhead let out a soft 'hmph', shaking his head and running clawed fingers up through his hair, letting out a long, irritated breath. _"Always in the goddamn middle of a transcript,"_ he muttered. He pushed himself from his desk, tossing his headphones down by his keyboard. _"Val, c'mon_ ," he jerked his head, Valefor looking up with his returned stunningly red eyes and hopping to his feet excitedly to get to his master's call. Kyle put a gentle hand on his head as he joined his side, leading him through the house towards the bathroom. Kyle snagged a dark towel from the rack behind the door and held the corner under the sink to soak down the fabric, looking down at him with a cocked brow. _"Ready, Dickcheese?"_ Val yipped at him a bit and Kyle snorted, dropping down into a kneel in front of him.

Damien watched, interest completely piqued at a quick cut from his claw slicing through his pentagram. _His_ marking. The one that made him shudder, the everlasting symbol of just where Kyle's path spawned from. Valefor shut his eyes as Kyle lightly smeared blood over his lids, placing his cleaned hand over top of them. Softly he murmured, _"Creare iterum color, abscondas a veritate._ " His red eye glowed brightly, reflecting against Valefor's dark fur. He removed his hand, both of them scrunching their eyes shut before looking at each other, the dog's eyes fading back into their faux mahogany shade.

Kyle smirked, snagging the wet towel and rubbing it over the blood marks. _"_ _Good boy_ _,"_ he cooed, scoffing at a large tongue sliding over his face. He shoved him away as he was cleaned and got back onto his feet, scowling down at him and wiping the drool off his forehead. _"You're lucky Kat loves you so much, Asshat,"_ he scolded.

Damien narrowed his eyes in confusion at the statement. "Who the fuck is Kat?" he murmured.

Gragor shrugged, "Perhaps a literal cat. McCormick is not very creative." Damien snorted, nodding in agreement. They turned back at Kyle grumbling to himself and cracking his neck, pulling off his shirt and throwing it aside. Damien's eyes traced over the scars still mapping along his torso, a small smirk playing on his lips. It was a lovely feeling, knowing well enough now that Kyle was just as doomed to remain marked as he was. They observed him smearing blood pooled in his palm across his eyes and mouth, letting a decent amount coat his throat and collarbone before focusing down on his claws and arms.

"So much work," he feigned a pout. "So _much_ to try to pretend he's mortal. How adorable."

The minion beside him squinted lightly in confusion, "If it is only him and the hellhound, why is he hiding?"

"Because he hates what he is," he purred, watching Kyle ramble off his lengthy incantation with excitement percolating deep within him.

Kyle sighed, closing his eyes and clasping his tattooed hands as though in prayer. " _Revertere ad quid illud esset, cutis de innocence, mortibus aegrotationum morientur non vident veritatem_ ," he finished, face twisting in slight discomfort as his fangs receded back into place. He let out an irritated sigh, forcing himself to reopen his eyes to his bloodied form, once-more matching irises glazing over with a split second of sadness before he went to clean himself off. Damien caught the momentary downhearted gleam, grin slicing wider across his face.

"Oh, he's _miserable_ ," he said excitedly, his hands coming together with a loud, echoing clap. "Little mouse is _suffering_."

Gragor looked between him and Kyle nonchalantly scrubbing himself clean of blood and healing his hand. "He looks as though he's doing just fine?" he blinked.

Damien rolled his eyes, "Learn to pick up body language, Gragor. He _quite clearly_ resents himself."

The demon hitched his brow, watching Kyle pull back on his shirt and sighing as Valefor hopped up with his massive paws on slimmed shoulders, annoyance breaking for a laugh and hugging the excitable hound around his neck, scratching under his ear and pressing their foreheads together with a grin. Gragor just wasn't seeing it, seeing nothing but complacency, even _joy_ , from the small human. "If you… say so, my lord," he said slowly.

Damien just shook his head, knowing well enough that his companion had more than an issue with seeing the bigger picture, he'd made that perfectly clear throughout his lifetime glued to his side. He flickered his gaze back to Kyle as he lightly pushed the hellhound off his shoulders, leading him back through the house towards the kitchen and mindlessly talking to the excitable mongrel. His sharp eyes caught their dishrack to the side of the sink as Kyle made way towards the fridge, seeing small, plastic pink and purple plates and cups set to dry. His eyes widened, looking into the icebox as Kyle tore it open searching for a dish of rice and meat he'd made up for Valefor the night prior, catching the array of juice boxes and pre-prepped Ziplocs of cubed cheese and red grapes set upon the lower shelf.

He grinned, red eyes dancing wildly, " _No_ ," he whispered in astonishment.

"What?" Gragor blinked, still focused on Kyle pulling out the dish for the prancing hound and setting it on the ground, watching in disgust as the mutt dove into his meal.

"They have a _child_ ," he hissed in glee.

The plated monster cocked his head, "How do you know?"

Damien scoffed, "The dinnerware. The snacks. There's fucking crayons on the table," he pointed firmly. "Either there's a child in that house or McCormick has regressed further than even _I_ would've thought possible," he rolled his eyes. "I'm guessing _Kat_ is their _daughter_ ," he drawled, claws tapping rhythmically on his arms as he crossed them.

Gragor's face contorted in bewilderment. "Why would they have had a child? _How_? Whose is it?" he stressed.

The noirette chuckled, "I'm going to go out on a limb and say it's an adoption," he shrugged. "I doubt McCormick would want to risk his fucked up dying spells being passed down, and I _know_ little mouse wouldn't inflict his own dismantled DNA on a child." Gragor silently let the notion sink in, Damien licking over his lips. "This is even better than I thought it would be," he murmured. "Hiding his insecurities by raising a child… I would've expected nothing less," he purred.

Gragor nodded slowly, "Or… they just wanted a child?" he winced, flinching at yet another cautionary glare from the antichrist.

"Gragor. Think before you speak," he snapped. "The want is minimal. He _needed_ the distraction," he emphasized. "Needed _something_ to project his energy onto." Gragor just went back to nodding, not exactly wanting to cause an argument with the temperamental demon. "He needs something to pretend that he's _normal_ ," he finished with a chuckle. "What better way to create such a ruse than with a husband and daughter?"

"None that I can imagine, my lord," he mindlessly agreed, continuing to watch as Kyle straightened up the minor disarray of their kitchen. "Though… it does seem he's done well at hiding himself," he continued cautiously. "Since he's not under scrutiny…" he paused and glanced down at the man. ' _Aside from yourself, that is_ ,' he thought exhaustedly. He'd been dreading this day. He'd known for a good while now that he'd come in and find this, find Damien lost within the mess of his own fixation with his creation.

He nodded sharply, "Exactly. He's been in hiding all this time. He may have a decent handle on his ability, but not well enough to prevent _any_ discovery, not unless he was keeping himself locked away for only McCormick to know."

"What of the child?"

He smirked, "I doubt she knows. Otherwise, he wouldn't be hiding himself within his own home," he hypothesized. "No, little mouse is keeping _everyone_ away from the truth…" a malicious smile took hold over his face. "And that's going to work so _well_ in my favor." Gragor merely sighed in silence, shoulders drooping as they both turned their attention back towards the casual movements of the redheaded mixed breed, the byproduct of Damien's insatiable appetite.

Damien's bottom lip scraped between his fangs, feeling his scars and burns letting off their constant heat as his focus fell back quietly where he wanted it to be. ' _Enjoy this normalcy while you can, little mouse,_ ' he thought with a low-rumbling chuckle. ' _You're going to miss it._ '

* * *

 _ **A/N: Translations:**_

 _ **Creare iterum color**_ **,** _ **abscondas a veritate – Create a secondary color, hide the truth**_

 _ **Revertere ad quid illud esset, cutis de innocence, mortibus aegrotationum morientur non vident veritatem – Return to what it was, skin of the innocent, they shall not see the truth.**_

 _ **Thanks for R &Ring!**_


	5. Behold, the New Has Come

"' **Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.'"** _ **-Isaiah 43: 18-19**_

There was something to be said about how the road treated the men's mentality. For Kenny, gliding down the highway was akin to how he could soar through the clouds on his now minimal trips up to what he considered his home away from home. Free and smooth as the wind let him fly as he pleased. For Kyle, it was the notion of escape. How the car could easily outrun any haunting notion that wanted to hunt him down, make him remember just what he was dealing with. At least temporarily, and that was all he could really ask for at this point.

Their destination was certainly no strain on them either, going back to who they once were. Before they both became more than human, before their world tried dismantling and pulling itself back together with shoddy string. Able to slip back into the way they'd been at the tail end of high school and the few years they lingered while Kyle commuted to and from his state university. They'd been born into their town as separate entities, but left it together, even to outsiders becoming one incomplete without the other. The last time they'd visited was nearly a year beforehand, only travelling for the sake of Kat getting to know her grandparents and aunt and uncles a little better, so they could hear her talk to them for the first time outside of a phone call.

However, regardless of the road, no matter the destination, the tension was still weighing on the redhead as he watched the city limit sign pass them by. He glanced down at the clock on the dash. Two hours and forty minutes. He'd set himself up not an hour before they hit the road. So he had only a tad over an hour before he would _have_ to get out of sight, running through every possible hindrance they could collide against that would hold him back.

Kenny glanced over from the steering wheel, sensing the worry circulating his husband's overly paranoid mind. He grabbed Kyle's hand, pulling it between them behind the gearshift and squeezing his palm tightly. Kyle let out a long, quiet sigh, reminding himself that Kenny would get him out of dodge as he had been for the past few days as the trip loomed nearer, turning his hand to slide their fingers together and grip him back.

Kat sat in the back in her booster seat, head twisting and turning as she tried to take in all the sights at once, her legs kicking impatiently for them to get where they were going. "Why couldn't Val-for come?" she whined for at _least_ the sixth time.

Kenny shrugged casually, "Grandma doesn't like him."

"Grandma's _mean_ ," she pouted.

Kyle frowned, childishly lifting their hands and lightly slamming Kenny's against the plastic console. "It's not Grandma," he turned and looked at her, shaking his head at the shit-eating grin crawling up Kenny's face for his possible war-path paved. "Val just doesn't like to travel."

"Is he with Uncle Stan and Aunt Wendy?"

"No, they're comin' with us to the wedding," he explained.

She frowned harder, "Then he's all alone!"

"He's _not_ ," he insisted. "Papa took him to one of our friends, okay? He loves going there. He's happy and we'll see him in _just_ a couple days waiting for us at home. I promise."

Kenny nodded, shaking Kyle's hand for his attention. Green eyes hit him and he jerked his head down to his soda, Kyle rolling his eyes and reaching over to undo the cap with his free hand. "Val's gonna be just fine," Kenny continued. "I'm sure he misses you."

She crossed her arms, looking out the window with an angry pout. "This trip is stupid," she muttered.

Kyle looked at her sternly, holding Kenny's soda up to the blonde's lips and letting him take a few gulps before pulling the plastic back to recap it. "Don't start, Katlyn," he warned. "Grandma won't deal with a fit."

"And neither will Dad," Kenny snorted, getting the same lecturing look that Kat had just received and smiling nervously at the redhead. "Or _me_ ," he put on a firmer tone, Kyle's expression breaking to laugh at his pitiable attempt. He turned and winked at him. "This is why she'll hate you when she's older, you'll be better at dolin' out punishments. Enjoy these years of favoritism while you can."

Kyle cocked his brow and shook his head, "Well I guess that's only because kids don't like only talking to people who act their age, huh?"

He scoffed indignantly. "You're just _jealous_ that I am _in touch_ with my inner child," he drawled, Kyle rolling his eyes dramatically. "You just _wish_ that you could feel true childlike wonderment again, Babe."

Kyle shook his head again. _'Saves Heaven and Earth with a goddamn sword and still acts like this. And I_ _ **married**_ _him,'_ he thought, laughing to himself and squeezing Kenny's hand. He glanced in the rearview mirror, still seeing Kat's pout and sighing. "Kat, I promise, you'll have fun. Even without Val."

"He's lonely," she grumbled.

Kenny looked between the two of them, twisting his lips. "So did you know Val is Daddy's dog?" he asked casually, trying to worm her out of her attitude before a tantrum took hold. "He found him and everything."

She looked back between them and cocked her head, "Where'd you find him?"

Kyle tensed for a moment before shrugging limberly. "Uh outside somewhere… he... he had an abusive owner at the time," he said softly.

"That's why he has his scar," Ken continued. Kyle clicked his teeth. Well. That wasn't exactly true, but it fit the tale well enough he supposed. "Daddy rescued him."

"Did he just come home with you?" she asked, leaning forward a bit in her seat and staring at the redhead.

He paused and gulped. "Uh… not exactly. He didn't like me at first… he didn't until the second time he found me. And then he wouldn't leave. He kind of adopted _me_ before I liked him much."

She stared at him in astonishment, "You didn't _like him_?" she stressed, unable to imagine her life without the massive canine.

Kyle laughed quietly, eyes glazing over. "It was… a rough time when we found each other. I was having some bad days."

Kenny squeezed his hand a little tighter, stroking over his fingers with his thumb. Every little bit he could tell Kat would help. Even if some of the words had to be tweaked, even if sometimes the story had to be altered to make her none the wiser… Every little bit Kyle could get out into the open would make it all easier down the line.

Kat looked from him to Kenny, his gaze still set steadily on the road. "Did _you_ like him, Papa?"

He smirked, "Loved him. I was… _away_ when they found each other," he phrased carefully. "Val was taking good care of your dad. That's all I needed to know about him." Kyle smiled sadly and nodded, tightening his hand just a touch more. "Loved him even more when we brought _you_ home," he continued. "Dumb mutt wouldn't leave your side. Pretty sure you thought _he_ was your dad for a while."

Kyle laughed and leaned back, remembering all-too-well Valefor's slobbering excitement getting to meet her. His panicked, frenzied whines when they'd take her out of the house and his sight. How he wouldn't let her let go of him as she learned to walk, going so far as to growl at Kenny for trying to get him away to let her try on her own. Kyle's face fell into a fond, wistful smile. Valefor had become what Kyle could only describe as his anomaly, the one piece of good fortune to follow him out of the pits of Hell. Kenny had tentatively asked Kyle after a particularly nasty self-hating fit if Valefor was triggering too many memories, if it'd be better if they'd leave him in Heaven and only go visit. Needless to say, Kenny had his answer after Kyle had attached Val's leash and taken him on a four and a half hour walk before coming home, Kyle swearing up and down that he was _lucky_ that the two of them were on a time limit or he probably would've walked him clear down to his parents' house for that kind of bullshit statement.

Kyle himself could never explain it, how he could see himself and see what had happened, but never when looking at Valefor. He only saw his dog, saw what had kept him together for five months of his imprisonment. Maybe, he'd surmised, it was the notion of a kindred spirit. Valefor didn't exactly choose who he was either, and he could play both sides of the spectrum just as Kyle could, depending on who he was with. It was the closest Kyle had to someone to relate to as he lived his life with a full-fledged angel surrounded in a world of fragile mortals. He and Valefor were perhaps the only demonic presences to walk on Earth, and it was an isolating notion, but one that he was just glad he had companionship for.

' _I hope hellhounds live longer than regular dogs,'_ he thought, lightly gnawing on his lip. It could be a challenge to explain a longer lifespan, but that was definitely something he was willing to work through if things actually turned to his advantage for once.

"We're almost thereee," Kenny sang. He let go of Kyle's hand, gripping the wheel and curving the truck onto the exit ramp. "You excited, Kat?"

"Uh…"

Kyle glanced back at her, "What? You get to see Grandma and Grandpa. You love them… for reasons I don't understand," he muttered under his breath.

She bit her lip shyly and shrugged, looking back out the window. "I dunno."

Ken snorted, "Hon, if _anyone_ has to be nervous about seeing them, it's me. Since I married their precious _little bubbeleh_ ," he mocked, pinching Kyle's cheek.

Kyle growled, batting his hand off his face and scowling at his husband's incessant laughter. "Call me that again and you won't have to worry about my parents anymore because I'll find myself a nice _Jewish_ man to marry like my mother wanted."

Kenny looked at him wryly. "Oh yeah. I can see that. Pretty sure you'd avoid that _just_ so it didn't make your mom _too_ happy. Got a Catholic this time around, maybe next round get yourself a Buddhist. See what'll make her voice go the shrillest."

He snorted, "Pretty sure Catholic _is_ that point…" he paused, glancing back at their daughter. "Uh… speaking of…"

"We say that we take her to synagogue," he held up his hand. "Babe we're two steps ahead here."

Kyle frowned, "She doesn't know _anything_ religious. You tell my mother she's goin' to temple, she's gonna ask what her favorite lessons are, you dope."

"…Oh yeah," he muttered, blowing bangs out of his face. "Well… what do we tell 'em then?"

He shrugged, "I-I don't know… I guess the truth?"

Kenny raised his brow, "The truth that we'd rather be invested in praising God out loud some _other_ kind of way on weekend mornings?"

Kyle slapped his face into his palm and took a steadying breath. "I swear if you tell my mother that, you're _walking_ home. No, we just calmly and _firmly_ tell her that we're waiting to let _her_ figure it out."

The blonde snorted, "Oh yeah. Sheila's gonna be allllllll over that one."

Kyle sighed and nodded. "Yeah no. They'll drag her off to temple tomorrow or Saturday. And she'll take her shopping for 'presentable' clothes, since I neglected to think of this back home getting her bag ready."

Kenny shrugged. "Fine. But that means _we_ take her to mass."

" _You_ don't even go to mass."

He looked over and smirked, "Well. I kinda know a lot," he said quietly with a wink. "But all's fair n' equal in this instance, right? So we keep it even. We agreed."

Kyle leaned his head back with a groan. "Fine. Equal. _You_ take her to mass and I'll sleep in. I'm not going to watch you people eating crackers for an hour."

Ken snorted, "'You people?'" he quoted.

"I'm sorry. You Jesus freaks," he amended dryly, getting another laugh and a soft hit from the back of Kenny's hand against his arm.

Kat light beat her head against the back of her booster seat, eyes rolling enough she was beginning to make herself dizzy. "You two are so _boring_ ," she whined. "Are we… are we _there_ yet?!"

"Ay," Kenny scoffed. "Don't make me pull this car over and kiss your dad until you get all grossed out."

"I'll run into the road. Then I'll be quiet. Unlike you," she said flatly, Kyle leaning back and laughing hysterically into his hand, Kenny pouting at losing yet another battle to a three-year-old.

Kenny glared at his husband, "You just _had_ to teach her word comprehension," he grumbled. " _You're_ why she keeps getting into trouble at school."

"Oh am I?" he challenged, trying to settle down a bit.

The blonde straightened up primly. "Yeah. I'm not the one teachin' her sarcasm. I'm a _delight_." Both Kyle and Kat sputtered with more giggles, Kenny looking between them and whining, bouncing childishly in his seat. "I give you two _so much_ ," he insisted. "All you give me is a hard time."

Kat stared at him, "Because we… we make you think?"

"Oh my god," Kyle laughed louder, leaning forward and hiding his face in his hands as he cackled.

Kenny growled, flicking Kyle. "Oh look, it's Daddy and Papa's old street," he said through gritted teeth, looking back into the rearview mirror at Kat's amused expression and smiling in frustration. "When we get to Grandma and Grandpa's, you should tell them _all about_ how Daddy says Grandma's cooking tastes like an old boot."

Kyle's laughter stopped at once, looking at the blonde furiously. "Kenny, she'll _kill me_."

"You deserve it," he said snobbishly. "I give you nothing but love and you turn our child against me. I'm entitled to watching your mother beat you over the head with a cast iron."

The redhead turned to Kat and twisted his lips. "Are you gonna tell her that?"

She looked up in thought before glancing back down with a grin. "Not with… twenty hundred dollars," she said innocently.

Kyle glared at Kenny, "You taught her _blackmail_?"

He winced, "I think Cartman did that when he dropped by to visit on his way through town. Took me a good hour while you were at the grocery store to convince her Jews aren't _literally_ made of money."

He groaned and rolled his eyes. "Of course." He turned back to the curly-headed blonde and sighed. "Ten dollars. And _only_ if you're good this weekend. You'll get it when we get home. Deal?"

She nodded briskly, holding out her little hand. "D-deal," she agreed. Kyle reached his own hand out and they quickly high fived before turning back into their seats, Kyle glancing out the window at the passing houses.

"Man, will this town ever change?" he murmured quietly.

Kenny shook his head, "Nah. I think good ol' South Park is stuck in a time paradox. Least the houses. I _did_ hear they're openin' a new Chiles, though."

"God is _that_ what passed for news here?" he rolled his eyes. "We've lived in the city so long I forget that we used to have town _meetings_ on new buildings opening," he scoffed.

Ken chuckled, glancing to the right and his face dropping. "Holy shit."

Kyle followed his gaze, glancing towards the row of buildings and his own expression followed suit. "Apparently not… _all_ the houses stayed the same," he blinked. They all lurched forward as Kenny stopped the truck just before the railroad tracks, gaping at an empty lot.

"WHERE THE FUCK IS MY HOUSE?!" he shouted, Kyle cringing at the volume.

"Huh?" Kat blinked confusedly.

Kyle gulped, glancing back at her and rubbing Kenny's shoulder. "His old house used to be here… looks like they tore it down."

She narrowed her eyes, "Why?"

"It… wasn't in the best condition…," he said slowly. "Ken? You okay?"

The blonde just stared past him before shaking his head and turning his attention back towards the road, hitting the acceleration and all of them bobbing with the change in motion. "Yeah. That just was… unexpected. Considering last I heard Ma and Pops were still living there," he grumbled.

Kyle's expression fell further, continuing to comfortingly massage his shoulder. "Maybe they told Kevin or Karen and… and they-"

"No they didn't," he said quietly. "Pieces of shit… Whatever. It's fine," he scoffed, pulling up in front of Kyle's house. Last one just before the tracks, all too convenient for the two of them when they were younger and a perk they'd always enjoyed once they'd started dating. He put the truck in park and turned off the ignition. "It's totally fine. You know what? Means I ain't gotta feel bad 'bout not takin' Kat t' see 'em," he said, hitting the steering wheel and twisting to get out of the vehicle and head towards the bed to get her bag.

Kat's face fell, not used to Kenny being the one to act out. "Is Papa o-okay?" she asked timidly.

Kyle took a deep breath, unbuckling and nodding. "He'll be fine. He just doesn't get along with his mom and dad."

"Why?"

"They weren't very good parents," he winced.

Long, pale lashes fluttered in bewilderment. "Why?"

Kyle threw open his door and hopped out, opening her door and sparing another glance at his infuriated husband as he started to help her out of her straps. He leaned in close and sighed quietly. "Papa will tell you someday," he promised softly. "Don't ask him yet. And he needs to be the one to tell you. You understand?" She furrowed her brows. _Kyle_ was always the one to tell her about things, switching the routine didn't quite compute to her. But he looked serious and sad enough for her to nod in agreement. At least for now. He smiled in thanks, carefully lifting her out of her seat and hefting her into his arms, kicking the door shut behind him and walking over to meet Kenny as he tore out her small giraffe-patterned bag. "Ken?" Kyle asked softly. "You gonna be okay?"

Kenny nodded. "I'm fine. Perfectly dandy." He slung Kat's bag over his shoulder and shrugged. "Let's just get in and out so we can hit the hotel, huh?" he said, eyes glazing over.

"Yeah, yeah of course," he nodded, holding out his hand. Kenny smiled sadly, taking it and relinking their fingers as they headed up the walkway towards the Broflovski homestead, both of them jerking back at the door flinging open and Sheila standing there clapping her hands in glee.

"Bubbie!" she greeted, hurrying out and grabbing around the three of them, dragging them in for a hug. "We were worried! You took longer than usual!"

Kyle rolled his eyes, "Needed a rest stop because _someone_ can't hold it." He shook his head at her glancing at Kat. "No. Not that one." Kenny shed his angry grimace in favor of a cheesy smirk, waving at her pointedly.

She chuckled, bending him down and kissing his forehead. "How are you, Bubbie?"

"We're fine, Ma."

"I said _you_ ," she hit his curls lightly.

He smiled tiredly as he stood back up, "I'm fine." He glanced down at Kat hiding in his shirt shyly, looking at Sheila's hair and biting her lip. It was duller than her dad's, the shade almost making her uneasy by how close but how _different_ it was from what she was used to.

Sheila reached up higher to grab Kenny's face and pull him down to kiss his forehead as well, the blonde breaking into a real smile at the welcomed greeting. At least he had _this_ set of parents he could depend on, regardless of knowing Sheila remembered well enough catching him in the mornings after he'd snuck into Kyle's room the night before. "And how are you, Kenneth?"

"Doin' great, Mrs. Brof," he answered, giving her a quick hug. "How 'bout you?"

"Fantastic," she answered, looking back towards the house. "Gerald! Get out here!" she demanded before turning back to the toddler and smiling brightly. "Hello, Katlyn," she cooed.

Kat twisted her fingers in Kyle's shirt before timidly waving at her. Kyle smirked, shaking her a bit, "C'mon you remember Grandma."

Sheila raised her brow, "She'd remember me more if you'd come see us more often, Kyle," she crossed her arms. "Your little… _home job_ can't keep you _that_ busy."

Kyle shut his eyes, forcing himself to take a deep breath. He was expecting this. He didn't like it, but he knew that it was inevitable. He'd just hoped it wouldn't pop up until the day they were _leaving_. "Ma. It's a full-time job."

"From home," she finished with a clucking tongue. "It must be very nice to have so much downtime."

He reopened his eyes, narrowing them slightly. "You were a housewife. And still are," he reminded her staunchly.

"I _was_ a stay at home _mother_ ," she corrected, slapping his arm a bit. "You and your brother needed me! Always getting into trouble and never studying enough when you had the opportunity so you could play with your friends."

Kyle scowled, arms tightening around his daughter, wanting to just get back in the truck and hightail it back to Boulder. "Then I'm a stay at home _dad._ And I get paid for it," he said flatly.

She huffed. "That'd be more impressive if you had more than just _one_ child, Kyle. Maybe you two should consider another, so you'll be busier and won't have time for this _attitude_ with me-"

"Gerald!" Kenny broke through the tense air building so rapidly as the man stepped out of the house, the blonde waving at him frantically. "Gerald! My man! How you doin? Come talk!" he urged, raising his brows hintingly.

The man looked between his desperation and Kyle's frustration and shook his head. Of _course_ Sheila would start right away with her nonsense. He plastered on a smile, hastening his steps towards them. "Heya, Boys," he nodded, "How was the drive?"

Kyle relaxed a bit, "It was fine, Dad. How're you?"

"Same ol'," he shrugged. "You two?"

"Great," Kenny nodded, hooking his arm around Kyle's shoulders. "Ain't nothin' but sock hops at our place."

The man snorted a bit, "Well, just don't give Kat the complementary cigarettes."

"No promises," he winked, turning down to Kat still partially hiding. "C'mon, Kit-Kat," he cooed. "Say hi."

She gave them a small smile and wave. "Hi."

"Aw, come on," Gerald pressed. "Don't remember us at all? We gave you the big purple horse last time you were here."

Kat blinked, "Bryce?"

"Oh, you _named him_!" Sheila smiled, clasping her hands together. She glanced up to see the boys shaking their heads, mouthing 'her' over and over. "I-I mean… her. Of _course_ it's a her," she laughed softly. "Do you take good care of Bryce?"

She nodded, straightening up at bit at the mention of something so familiar and dear to her, the stuffed toy always one of the last she would say goodnight to, right before her fathers. She was always placed precariously atop the other stuffed animals in the corner, the biggest one she had and so the designated protector of the entire herd. That is aside from her favorite bear that her dads had given her for her third birthday, an orange cotton companion that she'd dubbed Lime just to spite Kenny joking his name should just be Orange, that slept beside of her throughout the night and was waiting in her bag for bedtime. "I didn't bring her," she informed them. "She's too big."

Gerald chuckled, "Well, that's all right. She's waitin' for you at home, huh?"

She nodded briskly, blue eyes beginning to brighten a bit with the ease of conversation. "I keep… keep her with the other animals," she smiled. "She watches them."

"I bet she does _great_ at watching them," Sheila grinned back. "Do you wanna come inside where it's a little warmer, Honey? We'll make _whatever you want_ to eat."

She nodded, feeling Kyle shift her a bit in his grasp. "We're gonna head to the hotel," Kyle informed them. "Me and Ken are kind of beat. Wanna get some dinner, you know," he shrugged dismissively.

Sheila's face fell, "Bubbeleh, just stay _here_ for dinner," she insisted.

"Now, Sheila, let them have a weekend to themselves," Gerald patted her shoulder. "How about we just do lunch on Sunday and talk before you guys leave?" he asked them.

"Sounds great, so long as you're the one doin' the cookin, Mrs. B," Kenny winked, handing off Kat's bag to Gerald.

Sheila smirked triumphantly. "Of _course_ , Kenneth."

Kyle rolled his eyes, turning Kat in his grip and holding her up. "Gonna be good?" he asked.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes back at him. " _Yes_ , Daddy," she drawled, giggling at a kiss against her forehead before Kenny leaned down and got her cheek.

"You better, or we're leaving you here," Ken teased. She grunted lightly, grabbing both of them around their necks and hugging them before turning in Kyle's grip stretching towards the ground. He put her onto her feet and she moved over to Sheila, holding her hand up and smiling as the woman took it.

"No hands means no walking," she recited Kyle's constant saying to her.

"That's a _good_ way to be," Sheila complimented, squeezing her tiny fingers a tad before looking at the boys. "You know, Kyle. You _could_ leave her here a little while. Take some time and go to school."

Kyle's content face fell immediately. "I'm not taking her out of preschool. Besides, I _did_ go to school. And finished. _Twice._ " he said firmly.

"No, you didn't," she lectured. "School doesn't give you just a certification, Kyle. Or a degree you can't do _anything_ with."

"I make money for my family and have time to spend with them, that's good enough for me," he bit, starting to shake.

She looked between them and shook her head. "Obviously not enough free time if your husband wants _my_ cooking and not yours. If you have such a relaxed schedule you should be much better at keeping your household afloat."

Kyle scowled, ignoring Kenny grabbing around his hand desperately. "I'm not a _housewife_ ," he spat.

"Daddy's not a wife," Kat re-emphasized. "I like his food, though."

"Same," Kenny frowned. "Thanks, Sheila. Been a slice. We'll see you Sunday… c'mon, Babe," he urged, tugging Kyle's hand. "I wanna go… see the plot," he murmured. Kyle broke from his enraged glaring into automatic sympathy, grasping Kenny's hand back and linking their fingers.

The redhead nodded, "If you're sure."

"Positive. See ya Kit-Kat," he smiled at their daughter. "Be good." Kyle glanced down and waved, giving her a sad smile, Kat tilting her head at the expression before Sheila started turning her to lead into the house.

"Bye, Papa, bye, Daddy," she called out before turning her attention back around.

Kenny gripped Kyle's hand tighter, starting to lead him down the sidewalk back towards the railroad tracks. "Fuck, Ky," he murmured as soon as they were out of earshot. "I'm sorry she's still pulling that shit."

He sighed, tucking his hair behind his ear. "She'll be pulling that shit until she's on her deathbed, Ken. To be fair, I wasted a _lot_ of their money. Pretty sure they were hoping for reimbursement with me being able to afford to send them to a nice retirement home… Don't think I can do that anymore. Given, I probably couldn't have anyway with my field," he scoffed.

"Well… Ike?" he winced.

He shrugged, "Ike likes the fact that he couldn't have fucked up as much as Ma thinks I did. Because if _my_ end goal was just a Bachelor's, I would've been fine. But _no_ I had to aim higher," he rolled his eyes. "I'm sure he and I will figure something out down the line. His engineer bucks and my transcription pittance will get them somewhere medial at least," he paused. "Unless Kat goes to grad school. Then fuck them, they're on their goddamn own."

Kenny squeezed his hand as they made way across the railroad tracks, overgrown and dilapidated beyond repair. "What would you do if she went and dropped out?" he asked quietly.

Kyle hesitated, "Depends on the reasoning. If it was like me and a literal no-win situation, then I'd take it in stride. If she came up to us and said 'Hey so I'm pregnant so this whole school thing won't pan out'… well Dad wouldn't be happy let's just say that," he drawled.

The blonde shuddered, "No no no. No talk of pregnancy. Ever. That's not happening."

He snorted, "Ken, it has to be a talk at some point."

"Noooooope," he shook his head briskly. "She'll be a lesbian and that'll never be a worry and she'll wait to adopt like we did when she's old and financially secure enough and it'll be _great_."

Kyle rolled his eyes, "You can't bank on her being a lesbian."

"Shh. Let me dream," he whispered, closing his eyes. Three was just _way_ too young for that kind of idea to spawn for him, he had enough to worry about with Rodney passing out his deadly cookies to any girl that looked his way. Last thing he needed was to know what Rodney would goddamn more than likely grow up to _be_. He shook his head, reopening his eyes at Kyle's quiet laughter, glancing over to the side and bringing them both to a stop, gazing at the dirt lot that was once his home. Kyle's chuckling halted, looking up at Kenny worriedly.

"Ken? You all right?"

He gulped, tugging his hand and leading him onto the newly sodded grass, making way towards the patch with its own grass trying to sprout in the deadened earth. "It's just… gone," he said quietly. "Why did they knock it down?"

Kyle let out a long breath through his nose, "Probably cheaper to rebuild entirely than to fix it up," he murmured. "It was kind of a wreck by the time you left."

"It was always a wreck," he rolled his eyes, shoulders drooping. "But it was _my_ wreck, ya know?"

"I know," he nodded, squeezing his fingers tightly, letting Kenny lead him to the back of the lot, the blonde stamping his foot a few times in the dust.

He smirked sadly, "My bed was here. And where I first plowed your sweet ass."

Kyle rolled his eyes, "You're not going to take me on a tour of coital memory lane, are you?"

"Nah, just this one," he promised, kissing his cheek. "'Member how I smooth-talked you into bed that first time?" he purred.

The redhead snorted. "Stumbling over your words and tripping over your own socks is _smooth_?" he repeated. "You were shaking so bad I got your fucking blanket because I thought you were freezing."

"Oh, like you were much better," he scoffed. "Goddamn. 'Scuse me for bein' nervous 'bout hurtin' ya."

Kyle shook his head and laughed. "Well. You always were the softie between the two of us," he taunted.

"Ay, let's be real. Not much was soft about me when you were around. Still isn't." Kyle rolled his eyes again. Walked right the fuck into that one. Kenny glanced around and took another breath. "Seriously, though," he shook him lightly. "Remember all that?"

He nodded. "Yeah. And we were both a fucking mess. In every sense of the word," he smirked. Kenny pulled on his hand, leading him to sit down on the dirt with their fingers still intertwined, leaning against one another and staring at the blank canvas of land. "You tried so fucking hard to make it special for me," he smiled. "Ended up looking like a full-fledged retard and tried to kill me with candles."

"Romance wasn't exactly my thing," he shrugged. "And how was I supposed to know you're allergic to goddamn fake cinnamon of all things?"

He cocked his brow, "The fact that I refused to go into stores around the holidays?"

"In my defense, I thought that was a personal protest that there wasn't enough Chanukah stuff to combat all the baby Jesus shit," Kenny raised his hand a bit. "Made sense at the time." Kyle rolled his eyes amusedly, leaning down against his shoulder and nuzzling his cheek into the bone with a sigh. "You asked me to move with you in here, too," Kenny continued softly. "'Member?"

"I remember I tried really hard to make it some romantic gesture, but I fail as hard as you do at that," he scoffed. "Fuckin' restaurant cancelled my goddamn reservation," he muttered bitterly.

Kenny grinned, leaning his head down atop his. "Fuck man, you were so nervous I thought you were about to propose."

He raised his brow, "What if I was?"

The blonde shrugged, "I would've said yes. And called you a raging faggot."

"Aw, you remember how I accepted _your_ proposal," he smirked. Kenny kissed his forehead and nodded softly. "But Ken… Are you really that upset the house is gone? You hated it here," Kyle said quietly.

He paused, letting his eyes drift around the abandoned lot. "I hated it, but… Fuck man, this was where we technically had our first kiss, too."

"There _has_ to be more you miss than just things we did here," he insisted.

Kenny scoffed, "Like what? Dad throwin' whiskey bottles at us? And at you?" Kyle cringed a bit with the memory. "Ma snortin' pills? Kev tryin' like crazy to get me and Kare out 'till he made himself sick from workin' nonstop? None of us havin' friends over because we were embarrassed of what we were? You know what my good memories are in this fuckin' house? Karen bein' brought home for the first time. That one time that Ma was sober enough to scrounge up the money to buy me my first birthday cake when I turned fourteen… and then everything after that is you. This place was a dump. But… I dunno it's where I started to finally be happy and okay with everything that was happening to me with dyin' n' shit, you know?" he winced. "You came along and suddenly this place just didn't seem so bad."

Kyle was silent for a moment before smiling softly, closing his eyes and delving his head deeper against his shoulder. "Fuck, you're gay."

"Well good thing considering who I'm married to," he said thickly. He sighed, plopping his head down atop Kyle's hair with a pout. "Everything's different."

"Oh _god_ don't go having a midlife crisis on me already," Kyle groaned. "You're not even thirty yet. Let Kat get into high school and _then_ you can start freaking out."

He snorted lightly and kissed his head. "Nah it's not that. It's just… I thought we'd be stuck here forever, ya know? We'd buy a house a few blocks away and raise our kids here once you were done with school. Grow old and be standing off to the side embarrassed that no one ever grew a brain in this shit town."

Kyle took a deep breath and nodded. "Well. I would've preferred that to what happened to an extent," he murmured. "But us being out of here is the best we could ask for being like we are. Well, like I am," he shrugged. "We need the city; we need somewhere were our neighbors don't really know us. Here everything is _everyone's_ business. Hate to say it but I'm sure once they tore down your house, it was a community event. Where Randy was there in a lawn chair with a can of beer telling them to blow it up."

Kenny smirked, reaching up and squeezing around his shoulders. "Think we'll end up back here regardless?"

Kyle shook his head. "No. We made the right call staying where we are. We had a lot of new shit to adjust to, trying to make that work along with picking pace back up here just wouldn't have worked." He grabbed a handful of dirt, letting it seep through his fingers back onto the ground. "New lives, new start," he shrugged. "Readjusting to account for my fucking mother nosing into my business would be impossible. And honestly I kind of like it just being the three of us, but we still have Stan nearby if something comes up," he glanced up at him. "Best of both worlds."

The blonde grinned, leaning down and kissing him softly, humming against his lips. "Wanna get back to the hotel?" he murmured, tracing his lips up along his cheek to his ear. "We can forget all about this dirt and your mother's bitchy attitude. Fresh start." Kyle smiled and nodded softly, the both of them working their way back onto their feet and linking arms around the other's waist as they made way back towards the truck. Kenny stole one last glance at the dirt patch as they walked away, taking a deep breath. He felt Kyle squeezing around him reassuringly, turning back and leaning down against him.

Maybe it was for the best, he thought. Completely leaving behind what he'd left in this town seemed to be the only reasonable thing to do at the end of the day considering such a strained relationship with his parents. He knew he'd have to give Karen and Kevin a call, tell them what he'd found out and subject Kyle to listening to an hour-long bitch fest with both of them. But he also knew Kyle didn't mind, and was probably just as furious at his family for running off as he was. There was a reason Kyle took him with him to Boulder, and it wasn't _just_ because of their relationship. Kenny had a feeling that even without that element, the redhead wouldn't have let him become trapped in South Park. He'd always felt that they _both_ deserved more than what they had here, and wasn't about to deny him the same opportunity he'd struck.

And besides, he reasoned, if Kyle had to completely rebuild himself from the bottom and cut as many ties as he could afford to sever, there was no reason he shouldn't have to, too. Just the two of them and the ground up; and either one of them could easily say that that was all they ever really needed.


	6. Good Company Promotes Bad Morals

' **Without consultation, plans are frustrated, But with many counselors they succeed.' -** _ **Proverbs 15:22**_

In his youth, Damien found that few things made him feel what one would describe as _joy_. Watching a few tortures, getting to make a few executive calls in the instances that his father was unavailable, learning a new spell. But as he grew older, such simplicity just didn't do it for him anymore. The need to expand upon himself, to further the capabilities of his own creations took hold when he was merely fifteen.

In that time of youth, he watched from afar one day as his father sat in his office, rubbing temples as an emotional wreck from a breakup and an overwhelming amount of work piling up turned the Beast with the booming voice into a worn out husk of himself. He couldn't quite understand at the time just what it is he was watching, seeing the all-powerful lord of darkness as nothing but what would be akin to a single father coming home from a day working at the tax firm. Damien always considered that moment to be his ultimate catalyst, his signal to go from a child only dabbling in the dark arts for curiosity's sake into the monster he was born to be. He couldn't let himself fall into the same trap that had somehow snared his father, a lesson well emphasized in the midst of his war.

He could just _hear_ that overly-concerned, doting voice; see the paranoid gleam of yellow and black eyes. The war wasn't the first time that his father had demonstrated such feelings. No, it'd started when he was much younger, the first time Satan watched him pull off a spell without so much as a look at the victim he'd decided to set aflame at once. He'd been shocked, and Damien had learned on that day a valuable lesson: His father was once an angel, and had to adjust to becoming a demon, had to learn from the ground up. But not him, he was born into a body made to harbor strength beyond compare. He was crafted from Hell itself, was destined to harbor its natural fury and might, channel it into furthering the prowess that the realm was supposed to hold.

And, in that notion, Damien had found his _new_ source of joy: Taking what belonged solely to him, staking his claim in the assets that he had fought for and earned. It was a right that he exercised at every opportunity, whether that resource be a tier of command, a power, or a life. And life, he'd learned, was one of the _greatest_ things to win. But merely telling new minions of their stake on the totem pole was little more than a sip of what he'd wanted. No, it came from his _living_ prize that he'd found the true rush that he'd been searching for. Because the living could still _fight_ , could still proclaim their autonomy. And Damien could cradle the fragility of their mortality in his hands, could snatch it away from them if he so pleased, or allow them to continue the war for themselves.

And the mouse, he could tell, was still not done with his side of their battle.

Damien tongued over his fangs as he walked through a field teeming with tortures going rampant on either side of him, closing his eyes and relishing in the screaming washing over him in a tide made of warmed honey. Right now, the cadence of agony was as close as he was going to get to the _true_ pain he wanted to once more hear echoing throughout the realm. After all, what was pain to those already passed on? What more was there to lose? There was no fine string that had to be precariously balanced upon. There was no _restraint_ that had to be exercised, there was no game to see just how close one could get the soul to being completely torn asunder before walking away and letting them recover just to go at them again. Let them think that death was around any corner and get them to the point where they would be _praying_ for such mercy to fall upon them, so the fear could all at once be snuffed out.

It was no longer fun when the most valuable game piece was snatched from the board.

The antichrist came to a stop, red eyes reopening to the sight of a group of mortals being thrown into flame and he chuckled, watching flesh beginning to melt, lashes burning off in an instant and throats falling hoarse from wailing. Their torment would be over soon enough, and they would be granted a week of true rest before being shoved right back into the line to await the next round. It was merciful. Almost _too_ merciful for Damien's tastes.

He hummed, picking up his pace once more and heading towards his goal, seeing his companion leaning back and supervising a round of torment in the distance with half-lidded eyes. Gragor had become just as bored with the notion of their jobs as he had, one of the reasons aside from his loyalty to Damien that he had been so willing to step into the front line of war. The noirette grinned, at least he had _that_ to lean on when he found himself feeling as though he were alone in the never-ending fight against monotony.

"Gragor," he called sharply.

The demon's head snapped to the side, hurriedly standing up off the stalagmite he'd been leaning on and rushing towards him. "Yes, Master Damien? Is something wrong?"

"Not at all," he replied coolly, motioning for him to follow him out of the chorus of screeching surrounding them. Gragor kept with his pace, glancing down at the man's strong stride and sighing silently in relief. Seeing Damien up and mobile once again had been what he could only call a blessing. It was never enjoyable when one of prominent power found themselves crumbling onto the floor with the lightest of steps. His recovery had all but completely exhausted the minion, trying to keep Damien from his stubbornness being his ultimate undoing and debilitating him beyond repair. All he could do was thank the stars that he'd been able to jump back to how he once was. Well… health-wise at least.

Damien certainly wasn't the same that he'd been before the war. His personality seemed to increase tenfold, his cocky attitude had jumped to even more dangerous levels. Satan had told Gragor three years into the healing process that Damien had garnered Kyle's mortal attitude and stubborn streak in the midst of his ritual, that the little sliver of mortality that rushed within him would fester into his blood just as his demonic presence had within the redhead. And, as Satan himself had solemnly pointed out, what didn't kill a mortal only made them stronger.

The antichrist's worldview had narrowed; the big picture was no longer all he could truly see. No, he saw his true target instead, had learned to take his plans one step at a time, to secure each piece little by little until he could complete the puzzle himself. The endgame was fuzzy but viewable, but his next goal was clear as day. Up on Earth, waiting for him, whether they knew it or not.

"Gragor," Damien started as they made it far enough for the screaming to become little more than white noise, "I need you to do me a favor."

He nodded, "Of course, my lord. What do you need?"

He smiled viciously, eyes sparking with promise. "First, an opinion," he said, bringing them to a stop. "Just what would _you_ like seen with my little mouse?" he purred, looking up at him expectantly.

Gragor gulped, knowing well enough how he felt, wanting to leave that _mutt_ out of the equation entirely. Damien couldn't afford going after him again, not with how furious the redhead and his angelic husband would be for a repeat of past torment. "Struck down with illness to die a slow and painful death, Master Damien," he shrugged.

Damien snorted lightly and shook his head. "No no. That'd be _far_ too kind." Gragor nodded slowly. He couldn't exactly deny that. The antichrist sighed, flicking his hand up aimlessly for his portal, watching with lax eyes alongside his winged counterpart as Kenny and Kyle's sweating, panting forms popped in front of them. He rolled his eyes, "Why am I not surprised," he muttered. Gragor let out a sound of disgust and looked off and away into the distance. He'd _much_ rather be watching flaying than this.

Damien's gaze honed in on the redhead, brow quirking as hands slid up Kenny's back, catching the sharp gleam of claws as they lightly clasped around a defined shoulder. "What the fuck," he narrowed his eyes. He scoffed, "Apparently McCormick made demon into his fetish." Gragor groaned and shook his head. Damien blinked, looking back at Kyle's head as he leaned it back with a long moan, gripping at Kenny's hair as he moved seated on his lap, pressing his forehead down against his and whimpering.

Kenny grunted, hand not propping himself atop the hotel bed tightening around a slender hip and forcing him down harder, Kyle letting out a loud yelp, moving himself faster before grabbing Kenny and shoving him backwards. His hips continued to sway and grind as he leaned over him, claws digging fiercely into the cheap hotel sheets beneath them as Kenny watched him in a lustful awe. A gentle hand came up to cup Kyle's cheek, the redhead pivoting his head to lightly trail his tongue along his fingers, leading them into his mouth and settled between his fangs. Red and green gleamed sinfully as he moved and suckled, sight never breaking from his husband's as the blonde grinned and let his free hand wander Kyle's body as it pleased.

The noirette frowned deeper, crossing his arms. "Well, good to know."

"Know what?" Gragor asked with a wince at the show playing out.

"The mouse is still a whore. That'll come in handy for what he'll be doing," he said coolly. Gragor paused, looking over at his better suspiciously. He never knew exactly what had transpired between the both of them, but there was always some essence of lingering doubt that followed Kyle's violent reaction towards him in the aftermath of it all. Damien had only told him that he'd been put in his place, that he was to see just what kind of reaction he could get out of the tiny mixed breed. He shook his head, looking back as Kyle let out a long, echoed whine past the fingers hooking lightly in his mouth. He supposed in the end it wasn't his place, whatever Damien did was something that he deemed necessary in the grand scheme of it all.

Kenny chuckled through their stint of nothing but moans and whines, _"We shoulda been at the bar twenty minutes ago_ ," he teased through a groan.

Kyle scoffed, ripping his head back from his fingers, Ken's spit coated digits slipping out and leaving a wet trail down his chin and chest as they fell. He stopped his hips, quirking his brow at Kenny's face falling into an automatic pout at the loss of friction. _"Want me to just hop on off then?"_ he questioned breathlessly, grinding long and slow to watch Kenny's face deepen with desperation. _"Just get dressed and we go make conversation? Or would you like me to finish?"_ Kenny let out a long, pathetic whine, slapping his ass pointedly and getting a smirk from the redhead. _"Thought so_ ," he leaned down and kissed him before resuming his rhythm and grinding down against Kenny's stomach.

"Ugh," Damien shook his head before letting out a small huff of a laugh. "Oh, he just looks so _happy_ ," he cooed sarcastically, watching Kyle moaning and nuzzling noses with the blonde. "Can't wait to rip that all away from him," he spat, getting rid of the sight and continuing to walk down the pathway, Gragor hurrying after him. He scowled. Seems he didn't leave the redhead quite as broken as he'd hoped. He'd have to fucking fix that. "Tell me, Gragor, you were a tormenter. Which is worse for the mortals? Physical or psychological?"

Gragor blinked before shrugging, "Depends on the mortal, Master Damien."

"Mhm," he nodded. "Was anyone ever broken under your watch from psychological?"

He paused, looking up in thought, 'Not broken, no. We lost patience more often than not and went straight to physical," he shrugged.

"Ah, so you never played the game long enough," he purred. "Gragor, it's all about letting them destroy themselves, you should've known better."

He smirked a bit, "Demons are not known for their willingness to wait, my lord."

"This is true," he agreed. He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and laughed quietly. "How long do you believe it would take for a mortal to crumble under their own psyche?"

Gragor's face contorted as he considered the quandary. "Again, I believe it would depend on the mortal," he said slowly. "But if I had to harbor a guess, I'd say… a year?" he shrugged. "Depending on the amount being placed upon them, that is."

"So, you believe that _five_ years would be more than enough, then?"

The minion glanced down to see Damien walking casually, as though asking nothing but Gragor's plans for the next few days. He clicked his thick fangs, "I don't believe that the mutt has broken, not considering what we just saw, Master Damien," he answered softly.

The noirette stopped, brow cocking and looking back towards him. "The _mutt_?" he repeated.

"A… A nickname he gained through the realm," he stammered. "We can't exactly… call him a half-breed anymore, my lord."

Damien blinked before his lips curled up and he let out a loud, amused cackle. "Mutt," he repeated. "Fits so well in a way," he nodded. "And soon enough I'll have him obedient as a dog," he purred, continuing to walk, Gragor gulping and following suit, beyond glad that Damien wasn't infuriated with what he considered so highly to be _his_ becoming a reviled sobriquet amongst the minions. Damien spared him another glance and chuckled, "Well, I believe that he's closer than you may think. Think about it: He's hiding from himself, but not McCormick. He'll let _him_ see what he is, but can't even look himself in the mirror. Five years later and he's still performing a spell when it's only him and the hound? That just _screams_ that what he is is still dug in deep, and he's just as miserable about it as he was down here, if not more."

Gragor nodded, slowly, the words making a semblance of sense. Given, he certainly didn't _seem_ distraught just a few moments ago. "Why wouldn't he hide it from McCormick if he's so ashamed?" he questioned.

He shrugged, "My guess? McCormick told him not to. That 'he'd love him no matter what'," he mocked with an eye roll. "He's trying to make him feel better about it, but even _I_ know the mouse better than that. It's been sitting there for five years. He's been _stewing_ in it, has to relive it every few hours. It's just been pressing and pressing on his little skull," he said with cruel amusement. "All I have to do is make another strike, make the notion of eventual acceptance crumble all at once."

Gragor's chest twisted lightly. The inevitability had finally come to a head, a day that many had not been looking forward to, but had been preparing for. "How, my lord?"

He grinned, "Well let's be honest with ourselves, Gragor," he purred. "Really all it would take for him to snap would be to merely see me once again. Remember it all at once. Undo _every little ounce_ of patching that McCormick's been building atop him for so long. But I have much _grander_ things planned," he drawled theatrically. "And it requires assistance from you, Gragor."

He gulped, nodding briskly. "Anything, Master Damien."

He smirked, eyes smoldering, hearing Kyle's happy moans echoing in his ears and taking a long breath. "I need you to distract my father when the time comes. Until then, please instruct some of the lessers to prepare my room…" he paused, feeling Gragor's confused blink and chuckling darkly. "It'll need prepped for its newest occupant."

* * *

Kenny shivered, the frigidity of the fall night air slamming into his face. He rubbed his hands vigorously over his cheeks as he and Kyle trekked through the parking lot towards the low lighting of the bar in the distance. Kyle glanced up at him and smirked lightly, ripping off his worn green hat and reaching up to slam it down on Kenny's head. He tore off his scarf and tossed it around his neck with a grin, "You pussy."

Ken pouted, digging his chin down to nestle in the warmth leftover and Kyle's smell. "How the fuck are you warm? You only have a fucking hoodie!" he complained.

The redhead shrugged, "Guess demons are fairly temperature tolerant. Explains why I didn't die of a heatstroke in Hell." Kenny cocked his brow before letting out a 'huh' and a soft nod, bundling himself up further in his jacket and sniffling. Kyle grasped his phone out of his pocket, biting his lip. "Okay, I have four hours and forty-eight minutes. I should _probably_ set another alarm about ten minutes ahead of my other ten minute warning in case I-"

"Kyle. You have _three_ set already," he reminded him. "And I have two. You're going to be _fine_."

Kyle sighed, nodding and sticking his phone back into his jeans, angled just-so against his hip bone so he'd no doubt feel the vibration. "Ken, it's just been a while since we've been at this big of a gathering, you know?" he winced. "Remember the close call we had last year at Karen's?"

Ken twisted his lips, reaching his frozen fingers out to grasp Kyle's hand, shoving them both into Kyle's hoodie pocket. "We forgot to account for the time difference," he reminded him. "We don't have that problem here. We use alarms _and_ a timer. We have this mapped down to the second, Babe. C'mere," he yanked him into his side, leaning down and kissing his cheek. "It's gonna be great. We're gonna see the guys, rag on each other for a few hours, then you and I'll head back to the hotel and bang till we pass out."

Kyle snorted, "I know _I_ don't get tired easily, but you do, you lazy bum. You still need to get actual sleep."

"Eh," he shrugged. "Your ass is _far_ more important to me than something so menial as sleepin'." Kyle chuckled, head tilting and a happy smile spreading over his face as another long kiss fell on his buccinater. "Now c'mon," Kenny murmured against his skin. "Let's go show up these assholes thinkin' their relationships are better than ours."

Kyle rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he squeezed Kenny's hand, leading the both of them into Skeeter's and his sensitive nose automatically assaulted with the aroma of years' worth of tobacco build-up and spilt beer. "Oh god," he whispered, scrunching his eyes and shuddering. "Someone must've gotten sick a while ago." The harsh odor of stale vomit and cleaning sawdust was overpowering, churning his own stomach.

Kenny nodded briskly with the reminder, taking his hand back and reaching into his pocket, snagging a small bottle of essential oil from his jacket. "Sorry, Babe, blanked," he said, opening the vial and dabbing a bit onto his finger, wiping it under Kyle's nose.

The redhead sighed, pleasantly washed in the sweet, woodsy aroma of sandalwood. He glanced up at Kenny and smiled softly, "Thanks." Kenny grinned as he recapped his bottle, placing it back and kissing Kyle's forehead before they looked around.

"H-hey, Ken! Kyle!" an over-enthusiastic voice called. They followed the sound to the large party booth in the back of the establishment, seeing a pudgy blonde waving his arm wildly towards them surrounded by other excited faces.

"Oh goody, Butters," Kenny said through his teeth as he smiled, both of them stepping off towards the group.

"Be nice," Kyle said coolly. "We'll only see him a few days," he reminded him. "Focus on the others."

Kenny sighed through his nose and nodded, grumbling quietly. A long-held grudge against the other blonde was still prevalent, the naïve older one getting it into his head that they were somehow _buddies_ just because Kenny didn't tease him. That never had to do with _liking him_. He just didn't want to fucking talk to him, regardless of the context. It led to _years_ of Butters trying to tag along with him, always trying to get his opinion on _everything_. It'd all come to a head the night they'd graduated high school, Kenny a bit _preoccupied_ with slamming his valedictorian boyfriend against the bathroom wall and trying to get those damn robes off when Butters meandered in, asking if they were coming to his party the next day, completely oblivious to the two of them half-undressed and staring at him in horror. In what Kyle had dubbed the angriest he'd seen Kenny ever get at the time, he'd flown into a rage screaming for him to just leave him _alone_ , to take the hint from his silence and buzz off. Butters had left in tears, Kyle having to begrudgingly fix their robes and force Kenny to follow and apologize for getting so out-of-character on a moron.

Needless to say, Kyle had quite a few _apologies_ of his own to make after Kenny was forced to endure a hug and a twenty-minute blathering from Butters. Though, Kenny would never say it wasn't worth it. Getting to whisk Kyle away to Denver for a good four days and never letting him put clothes on certainly wasn't a bad way for the redhead to make up forcing him into contact with the imbecile.

Kenny forced the smile back on his face, Kyle squeezing his hand reassuringly as they approached the table and Butters leapt up, snagging him in a hug. "How ya doin', Kenny?" he asked.

"Fine. Just fine. How are you?" he forced the pleasantry out, giving him a rapid two taps on his back and pulling away.

Butters grinned, "Aw heck, just glad to see everyone." He turned and dragged Kyle into a hug as well, their heads bashing together and the blonde wincing a bit. "Oh ow, sorry, Kyle," he pulled back and rubbed his temple. Kyle blinked before realizing what'd happened, mimicking the response and feeling Kenny laughing subtly beside him. "How're you?" brown eyes peered up and twinkled.

He gave him a soft, easygoing smile that Kenny couldn't help but be jealous that he could pull off so simply. "We're doing gre-" he stopped as more arms wrapped around him, smirking awkwardly at Clyde suddenly around him and shaking him before returning the embrace.

"You assholes haven't come to see any of us at all," he whined, snagging Kenny's jacket and wrangling him in with the both of them, Kyle caught between their tight holds. He looked past the brunette to Stan, Cartman, Token, Craig, and Tweek for help, all of them shaking their heads amusedly, letting him suffer a bit for his and Kenny's extended stay-aways. Clyde pulled back finally and pouted, Ken and Kyle catching the air of his inebriation with ease. "Why do you hate us?"

"We don't hate anyone," Kyle rolled his eyes. "We've just been busy. Got work and Kat and whatnot, you know. Being adults."

Craig scoffed, tilting his beer bottle atop the table. "Oh, how could we forget. Apparently _we're_ all just running around still playing make-believe. 'Sides, if Marsh and Testaburger can come down, you two don't have an excuse."

Kenny smirked, "Good to see you, too, Tucker." Clyde slid back into the booth, dragging Kyle along with him and Kenny following into the seat, nudging his husband a bit with a smirk at Clyde's continual hugging around his arms. Kyle blinked confusedly at the attention, Clyde and he were never exactly the best of buddies. Acquaintances at the _very_ best. He could only attribute the touchiness to pre-wedding jitters, allowing him to continue remaining clinging around him and grabbing for Kenny's hand.

Cartman rolled his eyes, "The fuck took you two faggots so long?"

Stan turned and glared, "You _know_ not to ask them that!"

The blonde's face quirked into a shit-eating grin, wrapping his arm pointedly around Kyle's shoulders, hand having to worm between his arm and Clyde's cheek "Well, Fatboy, I think it's finally time we had the talk. You see, when two or more people love each other _very_ much-"

"Kenny, _c'mon_ ," Clyde whined with a sigh, finally pulling off of the redhead and rubbing his temple exhaustedly. "I'm kinda in freak-out mode right now."

Kyle glanced around the table, thin brow raising. "The girls out doing their thing? Shouldn't you and Annie be doing last-minute prep or something?"

"We're doing the whole 'don't see each other until the wedding' thing," he rolled his eyes. He glanced around the table. "Did any of _you_ do that?" he questioned.

Stan nodded, taking a sip of his beer. "Yep, me n' Wends did two days of us both in separate hotel rooms, didn't see each other until she was walking down the aisle," he smiled dopily.

"You mean the tick-infested carpet you found in a landfill," Cartman scoffed, whining at a strong punch against his humerus.

Token snorted, rolling his eyes. "Me and Bebe only did a ten-hour thing. But… you know, impromptu wedding made it kind of weird for us to want to do much else traditional."

Clyde nodded slowly, turning his attention to Kenny nuzzling down against Kyle's hair, his hat pressing upwards with the movement and nearly slipping off his scalp entirely. "What about you two?" he asked. "You're the only other ones hitched."

"Oh, let _me_ field that one," Stan interjected, fueled by already managing to down two and a half brewskis.

Kyle blushed, "How about you don't-"

"No, no, no," he cut him off. "Let me tell it." He turned to Clyde and raised his brow. "So, you know, bein' Ky's best man, my job was to keep him from freaking the fuck out the days leading up to and of, right?" Clyde nodded slowly, watching him with skepticism. "Well him and Ken decide to try the 'wait to see each other thing'. They wanted to do two days. They lasted about… thirty-eight minutes. It was actually pretty impressive for them," he scoffed.

Kyle rolled his eyes, "Stan, knock it off. We're just not good at-"

He stopped as Stan held up his hand. "I'm not done with my story, Kyle." The redhead glared, Kenny snorting and shaking him lightly, looking up at the waitress as she approached and ordering he and Kyle a drink before turning back amusedly to Stan's story. "So they try _one_ day. Caught 'em _seventeen_ minutes later in a bathroom."

"Someone's jealous of how slutty my husband is," Kenny smirked.

"Ken, shut _up_ ," Kyle snapped, flicking his nose. The blonde whined, grabbing Kyle's hat and shoving it back onto its owner's head down over his eyes.

Stan shook his head at their theatrics before turning back to Clyde. "So. Day of gets there. And they swore up and down that it was for real that time. No seeing each other until they met at the end of the damn aisle to walk down together, right? Well, Kyle has a fucking panic attack about an hour before it starts, asks me to go get him some soda and a cigarette so he can stop freaking out. I come back and walk in on Kenny nailing him against a fucking table. Mind you I _ran_ to get what he needed."

Kyle shrugged sheepishly with a wince, "Ken's the best at making my anxiety go away?" he tried.

Kenny wriggled his brows, "Ay, my best man was shit at keepin' tabs on me. You all knew what you were risking."

Cartman rolled his eyes. "You got a text from Kahl and fucking locked me in the closet, you poor piece of shit."

"That's what I like to call a taste of irony," he said primly. "You spent _years_ tauntin' me n' Ky 'bout us bein' trapped in a goddamn closet. Well, now you know how scary it is." He snorted as Cartman threw a handful of pretzels at him, shaking his head briskly to get fragments out of his hair.

Stan sighed tiredly, "Good fucking thing I know how you idiots get."

Kyle laughed, looking over at Clyde with another shrug. "He brought a duplicate of both our dress vests and ties just in case."

"And a fucking laundry stick," he shook his head.

"Aw, I think that's sweet," Butters cooed. "Couldn't keep yer hands off each other for just a few hours. That's somethin' special."

"It's called being horny and irritating," Craig corrected dryly.

Kenny scoffed, "Someone's jealous that they don't get any. What's wrong Craig? Mad that you didn't get dis _fine ass_ for yourself?" he poked Kyle's cheek pointedly, wincing at a sharp bite on the offending finger.

Craig rolled his eyes, "Trust me. You can have Broflovski all you want. No one else can deal with his bullshit."

"Ay," he snapped. "That is Broflovski- _McCormick_ to _you_ ," he warned, glancing up at his and Kyle's beers being set down and breaking his stern gaze for a thank you for the waitress.

Kyle raised his brow as he snagged his drink, "And everyone else I would hope?"

"But _especially_ Captain Single-n-Jealous over there."

Clyde chuckled, taking another long sip of his beer and sighing, "Man, I hope me and Annie are like that."

"I think you wanna aim closer to me and Bebe or Stan and Wendy," Token said wryly. "No offense, guys, but we can only take _one_ couple that acts like you two."

Tweek's finger tapped nervously on his Irish coffee, "I mean… I don't think it's so bad," he winced. "Least they're not f-fighting or something… right?! That'd be _way_ worse for all of us!"

Kyle gave a bittersweet smirk, "Trust me, you're all better off that way. You don't wanna see us fight. Gets pretty brutal." He looked up as Kenny squeezed around his shoulders comfortingly, meeting him with a soft kiss, ignoring Cartman's dramatically nauseated groans and Butters and Tweek letting out quiet 'aw's'.

Clyde watched them curiously, "Aren't you two outta the honeymoon phase yet? You've been together like, ten fuckin' years."

They looked over at him and laughed, "Honeymoon phase?" Kyle repeated. "Fuck we haven't had that since… like two months after we started _dating_."

Kenny snorted and nodded in agreement, "I love this little bastard but he ain't perfect and neither am I. We just know how to keep it cool most of the time. All the sex helps," he added, Kyle nodding along and shrugging.

Clyde nodded, soaking in the words and biting his lip. "Any like… tips? Marriage tips?"

"Uh, _we're_ married, too?! And to women? Like who _you're_ marrying?!" Stan gestured to himself and Token.

The brunette waved him off, "I know I know but you two are always fighting with Wendy and Bebe."

Kyle narrowed his eyes a bit in confusion, "I _literally_ just said that Ken and I fight sometimes, too."

"I know," he pouted. "But you aren't texting me whining like these two," he gestured to the other husbands who frowned and took long drinks of their alcohol. "No one knows what you two fight about. For all we knew you never do."

"Well… well that's 'cause you guys don't come see us," Butters added sadly. "Ya moved t' the big city n' forgot 'bout us."

"We didn't _forget_ anyone," Kyle insisted. "We just have a lot on our plates. And you all know my mother, you _really_ think I want to deal with her that often?"

Cartman let out a smug smirk, "So… are you saying then, Jew, that my description of your mother is accurate?" He grinned wider at a sharp, warning glare from the redhead as Kenny pulled him closer into his side and cleared his throat.

"You want a tip, Clyde? I got one," Kenny started firmly, getting the brunette's and the rest of the table's full attention. "If Annie needs somethin', you fuckin' get her that somethin'. If she needs you to leave her alone, that's what you fucking do. You don't push, you just tell her you're waitin' for when she needs ya. And if she needs to stay at home and not be surrounded by people because life is fucking hard sometimes, then you goddamn stay home and order her Chinese and don't let her have to make any effort she doesn't have t'. Don't make her be someone she's not," he said, voice dropping and fingers lightly curling around Kyle's arm, feeling green eyes locked on him intensely but keeping his gaze firmly set in Clyde's. "Your goddamn job is to make her feel better about herself, no matter what she needs and how ridiculous you think she's being. And her job is to do the same for you."

Kyle nodded slowly, hand gripping Kenny's thigh and turning to look at Clyde as well. "You do that and you two'll be way happier than you thought you could be, no matter how shitty it gets," he winced. "That whole 'marriage is a partnership' cliché shit is cliché because it's fucking true. If you try to handle everything on your own and don't get her help at least _somewhere_ down the line… it can get really ugly," he said quietly. "Everything you do as soon as that ring goes on is for both of you. And, coming from two _men_ : Trying to act like the stereotypical man and bottling up shit so you don't 'inconvenience her' or 'look like a pussy' or something makes it so much worse. It's all about stepping back but always making sure you step forward again and in the same direction she's going. Otherwise you end up on opposite sides of the field and get nowhere."

Clyde's face fell a bit, scraping at the label of his bottle with his thumb. "I… holy fuck that sounds fucking… _real_ ," he breathed. "I mean everyone's tellin' me close to the same thing but they talk about it like it doesn't actually _matter_ ," he stressed.

"It really does," Kenny input softly.

"Anyone else feel like the faggot atmosphere just rose so high it's about to smother us all?" Cartman asked dryly, dark amber eyes half-lidded and his chin propped in his palm. Stan, Token, and Craig all raised their hands, staring at the husbands and shaking their heads.

Clyde ignored them, smiling and moving forward, clasping Kyle in another hug and dragging Kenny down as best as he could to have him join. "I'm really glad you guys came," he said happily.

"You're really drunk," Kyle snorted.

"Not _really_ drunk," he countered. "Pleasantly buzzed."

Token nodded, "It's true. He gets huggy at that stage. When he's plastered, he cries and won't walk on his own."

Clyde chuckled and shrugged sheepishly, grinning at the two of them as he pulled back. "We were all kind of worried you wouldn't come."

"Wouldn't miss your big day, Man," Kenny promised lightheartedly. "I'm more than sure that you're the next one for the next decade with those two always takin' shit slow," he pointed to Butters and Tweek who shied down a bit. "And I'm _more_ than sure Fatass and Tucker ain't ever gonna find someone t' put up with their bullshit."

"If you can find someone, anyone can," Craig replied flatly.

Kyle rolled his eyes, "According to you I'm the worst thing to walk the planet, so does it really count?"

"No. You're the _third_ worst thing to walk the planet. Fatass is the worst and your dickhead husband is the second."

Kenny pumped his arm in victory, "Damn _straight_ I'm not the worst." He grinned over at Cartman, pointing at him with a wink and clicking his tongue, "Thanks, Fatboy. You'll always be number one to me."

"Why did I come here?" Cartman muttered. "I hate every single one of you."

"Free food at the reception is my guess," Kyle drawled.

Amber eyes flickered with frustration, "And _you_ came to see if your greedy Jew hands could swipe some of the money from the gift table, right?" Kyle narrowed his eyes, quickly blinking out of it as Kenny reached down and squeezed his hand as a reminder. Cartman was the _other_ reason they rarely came home. He could so easily set off Kyle's power getting him riled up that he'd be outed in a second flat, the both of them more than happy to avoid the possibility where they could.

"Guys, knock it _off_ ," Clyde begged. "Promise me you won't do this at the wedding, Annie will have my nuts in a vice; she's already pissed I invited both of you at the same time."

"You're just encouraging him at this point," Kyle leaned his chin into his palm and cocked his brow at the man. "Did you bribe him to behave yet?"

Token frowned, looking over at the glutton suspiciously, "Are you _really_ gonna make him do that?"

"Why not? The rest of you did," Cartman grinned smugly.

Kyle rolled his eyes, glancing at Clyde sympathetically. "Just go with the standard of he doesn't have to buy you a gift. It'll keep him mostly quiet."

Clyde groaned and shook his head, waving at Cartman aimlessly. "Fine, fine. No gift, I don't care. Just be fucking behaved, all right?"

"I'd _never_ ruin your special day, Clyde," he cooed, leaning back and taking a long sip of his beer. "Kinny and Kahl will do that sneaking off to have sex in the closet again."

" _One_ wedding we did that!" Kenny protested. "The other times it was the bathroom… and in Stan's wedding's case, we just went deeper into the woods."

Stan shook his head slowly, "Shouldn't you two be like, hitting a low point in your fucking horny bullshit by now?"

Kyle quirked his brow, "That you admitting to the rest of us that you need a little blue pill already, Stan?" The remainder of the table burst into laughter, the man glaring at his best friend who smiled innocently.

"No. I'm just _saying_ ," he drawled, raising his voice with each word until the others calmed down their damn chortling. "I'm saying you aren't fucking teenagers anymore, stop sneaking off and acting like it."

"Jesus Christ, _Dad_ ," Ken scoffed. "Sorry we're not all fuckin' prudes. Just be thankin' the stars Ky ain't into exhibitionism or you'd have a _hell_ of a lot worse of a time with us around."

Token shuddered, "Yeah no. Thanks for your discretion."

"Anytime," he tipped his bottle towards him in salute. He turned to Clyde again and smirked, wrapping his arm up around Kyle's shoulders once more. "Clyde, just follow me and Ky's example with Annie and you can't go wrong."

He raised his brow, "So fuck inappropriately and make all our friends uncomfortable at social gatherings."

"There you go," he winked.

Kyle shrugged innocently, "Or be inappropriate without your friends even knowing. Like how I've been giving Kenny a _hand_ this entire conversation."

"AW SICK!" the group shouted, hurrying to back away from them and crowd the far side of the booth as the husbands lost it, leaning against each other and cackling hysterically.

The redhead simmered in the slightest, raising his hands above the table. "I'm _kidding_."

"This time," Ken finished with a cheeky grin. The remainder launched into a lecturing, complaining session towards the both of them, words meshing together incomprehensibly. The blonde leaned down and lightly brushed his lips over Kyle's ear. "Glad you came?" he whispered.

Kyle turned from watching the amusing expressions fluctuating along their friends' faces to look up at him, smiling sweetly. "I really am," he murmured. "Thanks for convincing me." Kenny grinned, planting a small peck against his lips, both of them snickering at the round of disgust from everyone but the blankly staring Butters and Tweek picking up volume and rapidity. They both turned to face the group, heads leaning against each other and each floating through a haze as they picked up random words from select members. Kyle's hand reached down and squeezed Kenny's knee, another silent thank you. The blonde grinned happily, feeling the normalcy once more ebbing through Kyle's ever-shifting tides, his alarms forgotten for the moment, lost in nothing but Kenny's hold and for just a few moments finding himself feeling like who he once was.


	7. Former Things Will Come to Mind

" **For I know my transgressions, And my sin is ever before me."** _ **-Psalm 51:3**_

Through the thin hotel walls, the shower sounded like beads parading against the porcelain, Kyle sitting on the edge of the bed in his boxers as he dried off his hair. He grumbled to himself, hating always having to be the first one of the two of them awake and cleaned so his thick curls had time to dry and calm their shit before the day could start. He pulled down the complimentary towel with a sigh, shaking his head and letting wet strands flop listlessly around his scalp. Multicolored eyes swept over to the nightstand and his charging phone, pulling it from its hold and off the cord. He hummed to himself, carefully maneuvering his claws to avoid scratching up the screen, his damn protector could only do so much against the power of Hell, he supposed.

Kyle quickly found his contacts, scrolling through the list until finding _'Mom'_ and taking a deep breath. He looked up at the ceiling and shook his head. "I've done a _lot_ for you," he said quietly. "Please just let this be fucking painless." Another breath expanded through his chest before braving pressing the name and switching the phone onto speaker, holding it in one hand and the other going back to work with his towel.

A good four rings passed between him and the sound of the shower before a chipper _"Good morning, Bubbeleh"_ graced his presence.

"Hey, Ma," he answered. "Everything going all right?"

" _It's going wonderfully. Katlyn and I are going shopping today so she can have some nice clothes."_ He closed his eyes. Fucking called it.

"Ma, why are you buying her nice clothes?" he asked steadily, reminding himself to keep in control less he start blowing up walls. "She _has_ nice clothes. Her dresser can only fit so much."

She huffed, " _Your father and I are taking her to temple tonight, since_ _ **you**_ _seem to have neglected doing so."_

He dropped his towel beside him, pinching the bridge of his nose and forcing himself to take a long, needed breath. "Ma. Ken and I talked about this a _lot_ ," he emphasized. "I'd _really_ rather you didn't until me and Ken take her first."

" _What's wrong with her getting exposure to what she'll be experiencing later on?"_

He frowned, "Because it's not fair if Ken gets to take her to her first mass but I don't get to take her to her first temple."

A pause came over the line, Kyle practically hearing the wheels spinning rapidly in his mother's brain. _"…Mass?"_

"Yes, Mother," he said firmly, eyes rolling dramatically. "Remember the fact that my husband's Catholic?"

She let out a long, irritated sigh. The kind that Kyle experienced time and again in his youth when he was being stubborn and she was overwhelmingly disappointed in him. _"Kyle, this is a good thing for Katlyn."_

"Yes, if _Ken and I take her_ ," he emphasized. "Ma, please. I am _begging you_ to just respect this one fucking thing. She's _my_ child and-"

" _And you haven't set her on a path at all! Bubbie, you're hindering her growth!"_

"For God's sake," he muttered, pinching his nose hard enough for his claws to break his skin, pulling back with a hiss and healing himself with a grimace. "We're not _hindering_ a goddamn thing, Ma!" he snapped, barely catching the sound of the shower switching off at once. "Ken and I made a goddamn agreement, you can't disregard my wishes like this! You do this and I swear to _God_ you're not watching her again!"

She let out a gasp, _"Don't you speak to me like that, young man!"_

"Then don't take my daughter somewhere where I don't want you to take her!" he shot back. He glanced up at Kenny gunning it out of the bathroom wrapped haphazardly in his towel, looking at him in worry with soap suds still lingering on his shoulders and legs. The redhead rolled his eyes again and Kenny sank onto the bed next to him with a sigh, dripping hand tracing up his bare back to rub his shoulder comfortingly.

" _I'm just trying to_ _ **help you**_ _,"_ she emphasized. _"Obviously you just aren't handling figuring out how to make this all work efficiently. She needs some kind of structure in her life, Kyle."_ Kenny glared darkly at the phone, his hand tightening around his husband protectively.

"She's. THREE," Kyle reminded her venomously. "A three-year-old doesn't need goddamn structure like that! Leave that aspect to me and Kenny. Once we take her when she's older, then _you_ can take her as much as you please, Ma."

His sensitive ears perked, hearing a _"Grandma, why're you shouting?"_ in the background.

"Put her on," Kyle demanded.

Sheila paused again before huffing, _"I don't think you should talk to her with this kind of attitude, Kyle. She doesn't need to hear you so angry."_

"Put her on the god. Damn. Phone," he spat.

Kenny leaned up and kissed his ear, continuing to rub him down. "Shhhh," he coaxed. "Deep breaths," he whispered, not wanting to deal with not only Kyle's emotions getting the better of him, but the damn property damage bill if he happened to lose it.

They both looked at the phone as it shuffled around before a small grabbing sound filled the empty air. A cheerful, _"Hi, Daddy_!" broke the tension and Kyle fell slack at once.

"Hey, Hon," he answered, voice losing its poison. "You doing all right?"

" _Uh huh. Grandma made… made me pancakes."_

"She did?" Kenny asked with a small grin.

A short pause came before they could practically hear her smile over the line. _"Hi, Papa! Yeah, sh-she did. Not as good as Daddy's t-though."_

Kyle straightened up smugly, hoping to God that his mother was standing in the background _fuming_ at such an insinuation. "Well, I'll make you better pancakes when we get home," he promised.

She hummed happily, " _M'kay. When are we goin' home?"_

"Sunday," Ken answered. "We'll see you that morning."

" _Will Val-for be home?"_

Kyle smirked lightly, "Yeah, we'll get him home, too. Don't let Grandma boss you around too much, all right?"

" _Okay-_ ," she paused, the boys hearing murmuring behind her and glancing at each other wearily. _"Grandpa wants the phone,"_ she informed them.

"All right, go ahead," he said softly. "We'll talk to you tonight."

" _Love you!"_ she said before the phone was hurriedly handed off, the two of them smiling a bit as her footsteps quickly receded away from the speaker.

" _Hey, Kyle_ ," Gerald said tiredly.

Kenny went back to rubbing Kyle's shoulder as the tenseness of his muscles settled right back in. "Hey, Dad," he murmured. "You're not going to fucking lecture me, too, are you?"

" _No, no, no_ ," he said, the boys looking at each other as they heard a door open and close and the sound of a car passing by in the background. _"You really don't want us taking Kat, huh?"_

He let out a long breath, moving to lean back against Kenny's sudsy form and let him wrap around him, forcing himself to just focus on the warmth as opposed to the anger once again trying to steadily build. "I really want Ken and I to take her first. It means a lot to me."

" _I understand completely, Kyle_ ," he assured him gently. _"You know how your mother gets. I'll talk some sense into her."_

Kyle shook his head, "No offense, Dad, but it hasn't worked all the other years of your marriage I doubt it'll start today."

His father let out a soft chuckle and a bit of an exhausted sigh, obviously just as willing to deal with a morning brawl as Kyle was. _"Well, I'll figure something out. What if you two came tomorrow morning and we all four took her?"_

Kyle glanced at Kenny who gave him a shrug and a simple smile. That one was all on him, Kenny didn't care one way or the other, so long as _he_ was happy. He nodded slowly in consideration before glancing back down to the timestamp working away on the screen. "Yeah. Yeah I'd be fine with that."

" _Can I get you to compromise on your mother buying her a nice outfit?"_ he asked, voice half-pleading. That was always Gerald's role as Kyle got older: trying to be the buffer between the two dominant personalities of their household until Kyle finally left and the ever-shifting rift between the two of them all but died out. Aside from occasions like _this_ at the very least. But, as much as he wanted it to be fair all around, both of them knew the only way to preserve any amount of peace: Sheila was going to have to have somewhat of an edge.

"That's fine, Ger," Kenny interjected quietly, giving Kyle another innocent shrug and a peck on his temple. "Only one though. She's runnin' outta room in her closet."

"And outgrowing everything in about two weeks," Kyle shook his head, smirking softly at the continued attention being planted along the side of his face.

" _Absolutely,_ " he concurred. _"Thank you, Kyle."_

He huffed out a quiet laugh, "No, thank _you_. Nice to know at least _one of you_ remembers whose kid she is."

Gerald chuckled softly, _"Your mother has pretty bad empty nest syndrome. She misses having you and Ike to coddle."_

"Look, Ike can still be coddled, he can't even cook noodles without smoking out his apartment," Kyle reminded him flatly. "Doesn't _all_ have to redirect onto Kat."

His father made a half-awakened sound of agreement before sinking back into a sigh. " _Look, I'll do what I can. I'll let you know if she's flat-out refusing or anything. You boys have a good day if we don't see you until tomorrow."_

"Thanks, Dad," Kyle murmured. "Good luck."

" _Talk to you later, boys,"_ he noted before hanging up on his end.

Kyle hung up as well, staring down at his claw resting against the glass screen. Kenny shifted a bit and kissed the nape of his neck. "What happened to we just let 'em take her?"

He turned and looked back at his husband, shoulders sinking. "Look, I don't know. I just got _really_ upset when Ma said they were taking her. Like… Jesus Christ, Ken, what if she's _only_ exposed to shit like that without us guiding her along? She's _so_ fucking impressionable right now who knows how headfirst she'd get into the idea. It'd fucking tear her apart if we're not there to balance it out with like, suggesting other options and she happened to see me like I am, ya know? I mean I _know_ that wouldn't happen from just _one_ trip to the synagogue but it just _feels_ like it would." he winced. "I don't want her to think one thing all her life and then it turns into the proverbial Santa Claus."

Kenny nodded slowly, raising both hands to work the back of Kyle's neck and sighing through his nose. "Didn't happen for you," he reminded him gently.

Kyle snorted and shook his head, red and green dropping down to the hotel carpeting and his shoulders drooping. "Except it did. And I _hate_ that it did."

He paused, scooching closer and looking at him in concern. "Wait, you didn't tell me that."

"Kenny. I'm Jewish. You know what Jews _don't_ believe in? The devil. You know what I am? I'm _third in line_ for the goddamn devil," he said bitterly. "So… I get to look in the mirror every day and go 'ah fantastic, everything I was raised to believe was wrong'. And everything _you_ were raised to believe. And everyone else… But it's still important to me. I want Kat to have the experience, but we can still kind of… push her a little more towards the center of doctrine and truth, ya know?" he winced.

Kenny nodded again, kissing the crook of his neck. "That's really the only way _to_ do it."

"Wouldn't be fair to keep her out of everything religious altogether," Kyle emphasized.

He twisted his lips, leaning his chin down on Kyle's shoulder. "Let's start our own religion."

Kyle glanced back at him, snorting softly. "Fucking what?"

"We'll start our own. And it'll be awesome because you n' me are part of our bible. We could star in the movies."

"One, you're an _awful_ actor," he reminded him with an eye roll as he shifted back around to face him. "Two, just what roles would we even have? Good and evil or what?"

Kenny shook his head, "Nah. You're the good, protective demon who comes to the ever-brave archangel to fuck and restore your powers," as he gestured towards himself, fluttering his lashes. "The only way for you to keep the world safe is by the power of my dick. So our people will hold ceremonies and set up rooms for us to fuck in. Leave us offerings of lube and dildos and set aside time in their days to wish us a successful banging. You know. For the good of the world."

Kyle stared at him in silence for a moment before a twitching smirk played on his lips, beginning to sputter with laughter, falling forward and landing his forehead on Kenny's clavicle. Kenny smiled, running his hand up through damp curls as he continued to cackle and scratching dotingly along his scalp. "I don't think that's the 'sword' God wanted you to use to save shit," Kyle teased.

"Hey, so long as shit's saved, no one can bitch about the method," he shrugged. "'Sides. My _sword_ is for saving you only."

"Oh, my hero," he rolled his eyes in amusement, pressing a gentle kiss to his chest.

Kenny wrapped his arms around him, pulling and twisting him with a quiet yelp as he slammed him onto his back against the unmade mattress, straddling over him with a grin, wriggling his brows. "So. Need a rescue?"

Kyle stole a glance at the digital clock on their nightstand before turning back to him with an innocent shrug. "You'd have to save me pretty quickly. I think we'll get murdered if we're late for the ceremony."

"Babe. Please," he scoffed, reaching down and throwing off his towel, hands snapping to Kyle's waistband and fighting his boxers off lean legs. "I am a _professional_. I can save you nice and fast."

"Hm," he mused, hand sliding up a toned arm and flicking residual suds off to the side. "Might get a lil messy."

Ken leaned down and stole a kiss. "Would you say it's a… _sticky situation_?"

Kyle grinned, shaking his head a bit. "Remind me why I married you."

"Becauuussseee," he drawled, hands tracing down to Kyle's hips and sliding him further up the bed, Kyle finding himself with his head hanging over the edge staring at their curtained window. "I'm the best at this," he finished, leaning down and flatly sliding his tongue over Kyle's excitedly twitching cock. Kyle let out a soft, surprised noise, melting into a flustered puddle as Kenny wrapped his arms around him under the small of his back and burrowed in closely, kissing and nipping at his hips. Kenny's hand lightly came up and grasped around his dick, pressing it down against his belly and tracing his tongue down the length of the skin. He hummed, pleased with the freshly cleaned taste as he moved down and took a ball between his lips. Kyle moaned, head leaning back further in his compromised position as Kenny suckled away, tongue swirling about as it wished.

Kyle's eyes fluttered shut, a hand moving to lightly grip against Kenny's hair, earning him a quiet moan to vibrate around his skin. A long, shaking breath left his chest at a hard suck before Ken pulled off his balls, tongue tracing further down. Kenny grinned at the soft yip from his husband as his tongue swiped over the sensitive, puckered flesh. He unwrapped from around Kyle's waist, hands repositioning to snag the globes surrounding him and pull them apart, allow himself to bury his face into the warmth. He hummed, kissing and flicking his tongue over his hole, feeling a warmth of contentment being right where he felt most at home.

A loud, aroused moan left Kyle's tremoring form as Kenny's tongue pressed inside, wet warmth wriggling against his muscled walls and completely destroying any notion of annoyance harbored mere moments ago. Kenny's nose nudged against his balls as he worked, the added pressure driving Kyle nothing short of mad. Fingers tightened in locks of straw hair, Kenny delving further and moaning against him. Blue eyes flickered with a reminder of time being of the essence, pulling back away all too soon and getting a pathetic whine and tugs against his hair. "Hang on, hang on," he coaxed, contorting backwards and reaching towards the nightstand, ripping open the drawer and snagging the lube tossed in atop the hotel's bible and smirking self-righteously. He had a feeling it'd feel a little more risqué if he didn't _know_ God's approval of his and Kyle's relationship, but nevertheless, he could feel the boisterous attitude of that nine-year-old being dragged in and out of confession just cracking up at where life had led him.

He leaned back down into his spot, handing Kyle the lube. "Start," he ordered, moving to toss Kyle's legs over his shoulders and go right back to his face buried in his ass.

Kyle hissed in pleasure, shakily going to pour lube over his left palm, ignoring the marking plastered so prominently, the pentagram staring at him in judgement. The same feeling festered within his chest as always: a claim of _victory_ as he wrapped his hand down around himself and slowly began to pump. None of that bastard's markings mattered. Not to Kenny. Every scar, every tattoo, every alteration didn't mean shit. Because it was still Kyle under every mar of his flesh, and Kenny would so very happily indulge in the most intimate of his person regardless of what covered him. Kyle leaned his head back further with a content grin and a long moan as Kenny's tongue went right back where it belonged. His hand carefully stroked, keeping his fingers loose enough to prevent any unwanted clawing.

A sharp inhale rushed through him as Kenny made a happy sound, palm pumping faster around himself. A part of him was always a little off-put how much sooner he had to start than Kenny. His husband loved it, Kyle gaining a stamina from his demonic essence that could keep him going for over a goddamn hour if he didn't let his mind become overwhelmed with stimulation. It'd been something that'd taken both of them by surprise, Kenny immediately diving into all the 'fun' things he could do should Kyle keep his cool. It'd turned into what Kyle could only call part of his healing process, Kenny taking the multiplied minutes and using them to smother Kyle in an affection that he could never tire of. It'd become a heavier prescription of an already potent drug, and Kyle sure as hell wouldn't mind going out from an overdose.

Kenny hummed, his own cock pressed down against the bed and demanding to be touched, hips pulsing on their own accord for the slightest of friction. But that wasn't what mattered; What mattered was the sounds Kyle was making, the way the heat of his body flooded over him and tried to suffocate him. What mattered was the clean taste of his tongue and the cramping of his jaw as he partook in his favorite of pastimes. More often than not as the years had waned on, Kyle would wake up flipped over on his stomach, a tongue poking inside of him and loving hands kneading the skin of his ass. And on alternate days, Kenny would wake up and toss the blanket off his legs, finding a pair of lips wrapped so eagerly around his cock.

It didn't matter how often pained jokes would pass about their clichéd circumstance, being on the sides of Heaven and Hell, angel and demon. What mattered was no matter how holy, no matter how unclean anyone else would consider either of them to be, the other _worshipped_ their body. All they wanted was to indulge in tastes and scents and sounds permitted only for the other to enjoy.

Kenny slid his tongue back out and into his mouth, moving up and quickly suckling on Kyle's sac before he leaned fully up and over his flushed husband, blue eyes gleaming with joy. Kyle looked at him and smiled as he moved over him, palm extending to grip Kenny's leaking cock and press against his own, lubed hand steadily stroking over both of them. Ken shuddered, leaning down and planting a long kiss against Kyle's lips, relishing in the quiet, pleased hum and the clawed hand coming up under his arm to curl around his shoulder.

"Remember… when you wanted… me to be quick?" he asked breathlessly between kisses.

Kyle shrugged, giving a firm tug that made both of them gasp and arch into the other. "I haven't stopped you. You're the one who decided to make more effort than necessary."

Kenny smirked, nipping his lip and snagging the lube from the comforter, awkwardly contorting his arms around Kyle's head to douse his fingers. "It was _extremely_ necessary," he corrected, moaning softly at a thumb pad gliding over the head of his cock. His head tilted, planting his lips against Kyle's burning cheek, feeling the muscles riding into a wider smile. He snapped the lube closed and tossed it aside, fingers trailing back down to Kyle's moistened hole and prodding inside, a soft noise breaking from the back of Kyle's throat.

Kyle's eyes smoldered, completely overtaken by Kenny's scent and loving it. "You have the best priorities."

"I _know_ ," he said smartly, a second finger delving right inside the tight heat and Kyle throwing his head back, hand tightening as he gave a firm set of strokes, shuddering from the invasion.

"Ken… Ken," he whined, squirming at the pressure tottering against his prostate. Kenny beamed smugly, leaning down and planting lips and teeth against Kyle's prominent clavicle, suckling slowly as he scissored him. Kyle's free hand curled tautly around his shoulder, encouraging his fingers to keep playing their mind-numbing games. His hips arched time and again, riding the invading digits and kissing Kenny's neck frantically. Soon enough, a third counterpart joined, Kenny's fingers twisting and stretching as he watched his husband moan and writhe. Kyle's hand kept steady around the both of them, persuading his attention onward. Kenny pulled back from his mark, staring at the deep, dark purpling splotch crawling up Kyle's collarbone from his wandering lips and feeling a swelling pride.

He glanced up to Kyle's face, the flushed cheeks and the batting lashes, reading the pure affection simmering steadily in pools of ruby and basil. He cocked a haughty smirk, brows raising and lowering teasingly as he spread his fingers. "Like that?"

"U-uh huh," he gulped, keen mind led astray by the domineering prowess Kenny commanded over him in the moment, the stance he somehow always managed to steal without Kyle even knowing until it had him pinned down and helpless.

Kenny saw his opportunity, knowing it was fleeting, that Kyle would swap right back into his stubborn self in a matter of moments. Exploiting this temporary loss of bratty tendencies was _always_ a favorite game of his. " _Tell me_ you like it," he goaded.

Eyes obscuring with thick lashes, a wavering breath rattling his chest, Kyle let out an airy, _"I love it_."

He grinned, leaning down and kissing him briskly; his tiny reward for cooperation. "And just _what_ , my dear, do you love even _more_?"

Recognition of the lead-up fleeted through his mind, quickly snuffed out by a jerking jolt against his prostate sending him into a long-winded groan. "You?" he said, not sure if he even remembered the damn question right.

Kenny snorted, twisting his wrist and watching Kyle shamelessly ride along his working hand. "While a _great_ answer, not what I was looking for. What _part of me_ do you love more than _this_?" he emphasized with a quick stretch of his muscles.

Kyle gasped, hand jerking them a bit harder, his thumb mindlessly playing in their collecting pre-come and smearing the fluids together around their heads. His mouth dropped open a bit, jaw shaking, fangs gleaming in the hotel room lighting as he slowly came back down from the clouds. "I love… your brain. Because it makes sure I'm the smart one," he grinned cheekily.

Kenny snorted, head dropping down against his shoulder and back shaking with laughter. "You jackass," he cackled, kissing his neck and ripping his fingers out, wiping them on the comforter and jerking his hips down against Kyle's own. "C'monnn," he urged. "Tell me whatcha want."

Kyle rolled his eyes, temporary blinders finally shed. "Ken, just fuck me."

"Noooo I want you to be _specific_ ," he whined.

"Kenny. We don't have time to-"

"Then you better _hurry_ ," he scoffed, grinding down once more and watching him hiss, releasing both of their cocks and letting them press against his stomach.

Kyle shook his head. And Kenny called _him_ the stubborn one. Kenny watched in confusion at a bright red glow encompassing his left eye, yelping as a jolt of power snagged him and drug him down against Kyle's torso. Kyle tilted his head up, lips tracing along his neck as Kenny gulped, shifting and maneuvering his cock right outside where he wanted to be. " _Please_ ," Kyle whispered, claws oh-so-gently urging him on. "Kenny _please_. I need you."

He grinned, lips tracing over his ear, leaving a nice wet trail as they went. "Just _what_ do you need from me?"

He pulled back, heavy, needy pants washing over Kenny's throat. "I need you… to stay right there."

Kenny blinked, looking down in bewilderment, catching the red glow taking hold once more and a wild grin on Kyle's face, gasping as his hips were forced down and he found himself plunging into Kyle's waiting body. Kyle arched with a long cry at the sudden breakthrough, entire body prickling with enthusiasm as Ken caught under the small of his back and kept him propped. His head dropped back down over the bed, laughing to himself as he felt Kenny trying to recover from the sudden envelopment, clenching his muscles and eliciting a hiss.

Kenny chuckled and shook his head, "You little _cheat_."

Kyle glanced back down, brow cocked with a smarmy grin. "So? You gonna complain or are you gonna fuck me until I'm _limping_ to this wedding?"

"On _one_ condition," he hinted.

He sighed and shook his head. "Please, make me scream with your cock. Because I need it so bad. Or something."

"Good enough," he nodded, giving a sharp thrust that made Kyle's head fall straight back again with a yelp. Kenny tongued over his teeth, going straight into a nice, quick rhythm, grinning at Kyle's beautifully adaptable capabilities. Another lovely perk he'd garnered that they never mentioned, but exploited more than enough. Silver linings, they both told themselves as Kenny's hips snapped ruthlessly against him, Kyle's body compliantly spreading out to accommodate. Kyle let out a yip as he slipped down with a particularly rough thrust, catching himself on the floor with his hands and arched over the edge of the bed. "Shit, you okay?!" Kenny asked, trying to pull him back up, pressing back in in the process and prompting a radiant tingle to cascade along Kyle's spine from precise aim.

"Yes, go!" he urged.

Kenny paused, looking at his bent form and raising his brow, wondering if all the blood had rushed from head to head at this point. "Uh, you sure about that?"

Kyle growled, pushing back a bit. "Kenny, I can hold myself up for hours like this; just _go_ ," he snapped. Kenny shrugged to himself a bit. Not like he was wrong. Lither form or not, Kyle had a hell of a lot more strength than Kenny could shake his sword at. He gnawed his lip, pulling Kyle's hips up higher from under his back and bearing down his stance, propelling forward and listening to Kyle's needy sounds from below.

Claws dug into the cheap carpeting, Kyle's sight fading out with every on-target hit against his prostate. He moaned, head dropping straight down, blood rushing to his temples and his head impossibly heavy. Kenny leaned up further, free hand curling around the edge of the mattress as he gazed down at the taut angle of his husband, noting the excited tremors with every inward push. Grinning slyly, his hand ran up Kyle's hip and waist, nails dragging down the flesh and leaving pale white marks, overshadowing the raised scars. He raised Kyle even further, hand drawing back and slamming down against the side of his ass, hearing that delighted yelp and humming hungrily. A dripping erection beat against Kyle's belly, leaving a small trail of pre-come to dribble down around his navel.

A predatory growl snuck through Kenny's throat, overwhelmed by the heat surrounding his cock and the sight of Kyle bent backwards so openly just for his viewing pleasure. He slapped his ass again, Kyle letting out a strangled howl, barely able to hear their connecting skin from his rushing blood, only the massive vibrations ricocheting throughout his compromised body indicative of Kenny's erratic rhythm. Ken's head bent forward, sweat dappled along his neck and his arm tightening possessively around his husband's back.

Kyle was past the point of coherent speech, going absolutely mad with the stimulation, claws dipping past carpet fibers and latching onto the plywood below. His fangs gritted, crying out at each thrust, feeling Kenny shaking with effort and overexcitement. The loving, calloused touch of Kenny's fingers drummed along his skin, nails tracing along his bones and carving himself a raw wake of lines leading back towards himself over risen, ugly marks. That was what this was and what it had been: Kyle the unruly canvas scraped from the discount bin and Kenny the artist, seeing his potential and rebuilding him into something worthwhile. Something for the world to look at and see just who'd crafted him into the piece that he was meant to be. The original hands that'd made him the mess in the first place wouldn't fade, brushstrokes forever engrained upon him, the rises and falls of acrylic texture could never be scraped off without destroying his foundation. But Kenny was the master of cover-ups, able to delicately splash him with watercolor, adding layer upon layer of translucence. One coat at a time, he would hide what only Kyle could seem to see. Art took a doting touch, and there was no set of hands that adored him more than the man tracing lines over his hipbone, murmuring half-intelligible words of boundless love and care.

A fingertip petting over a thick scar on his waist, a motion filled with the indication of reassurance and attentiveness, filled Kyle's chest with emotion, eyes welling in the slightest. He licked over his lips, arms bending a bit and a grunt leaving his throat as he used a slight push of power to propel him upwards, Kenny snatching both hands under his back and guiding his body upright. He stumbled backwards with an _'oof'_ as Kyle smacked into him, Kyle rolling them over as he made contact and putting himself back against the bed, staring up at his husband with a small, happy smile.

Kenny shook his head a bit to catch back up to what'd just happened, shooting him a saucy grin and wriggling his brows. "Sorry, Babe. Am I just too damn good for you to keep up with?"

Kyle huffed out a tiny laugh through his nose and nodded. "Yeah. You're too good for me."

Ken winked, leaning down and capturing his lips yet again, hips pushing back into motion with Kyle's legs wrapping around his slim waist. Kenny's tongue fluidly slipped past his fangs to lavish his mouth, moaning and breathing life into him time and again, completely content to be as they were. Kyle smiled against him, noses rubbing and tongues colliding as Kenny eagerly wrapped his hand around his aching cock. Kyle shuddered, overwhelmed with the intensity Kenny was drowning him within and more than welcoming the submersion. He let his head fall back and their lips separate with saliva messily stranded together still, staring up at Kenny silhouetted by the overhead lamp as he looked down on him with a fond gaze and a cocky smile. He grinned back with lazy ease, fingers tracing down along Kenny's face, the bite of his claws not seeming to affect him in the least.

Kyle let out a long breath, pulling Kenny back down and hiding his face in his neck, humming at light kisses pressing into his jugular. Kenny read him with ease and began slowing his pace, taking the time to enjoy the moment in its entirety with him. Nuzzling down comfortably against his blazing skin, Kyle glanced up at the ceiling and sighed contentedly. His eyes slipped closed at a hand coming up to cradle the back of his hair and keep him close, smiling and taking in the heightened aroma of Kenny's sweat and the sensation of his hands and heat thrusting in and out of him. This was all he needed, he decided. Just Kenny and his attention, Kenny and his touch. And, most importantly, Kenny and his heart; which, as far as Kyle was concerned, was far, _far_ too good to him.

* * *

Cramped into a bathroom stall was not exactly where Kyle wanted to be, but of course Clyde and Annie had to decide on a _public_ venue to hold their reception. Three halls, Annie had told them excitedly. Three halls only! It was so quaint!

How someone like Annie managed to oversell something so plain, Kyle would never know. Considering the fact that his own mother had practically strangled another family who tried buying out her reservation for his and Kenny's _private_ reception hall, he supposed maybe he didn't quite know how it was when one was planning their own wedding. He'd long had to accept during that ordeal that he and Kenny may have been the ones getting hitched, but Sheila was going to walk out of that ceremony with more congratulations than the two of them. He'd decided maybe two elements for the both of them, Kenny staying out of the battle altogether. But, then again, Kyle figured he had a pretty good excuse for not being quite so involved with putting himself on display. Didn't stop his mother from ragging for a good three years that she'd 'done so much for them' and repeating _"Bubbie you'd be so lost without your mother, you and Kenneth probably would've gotten married in a…_ _ **courthouse**_ ".

Kyle sighed through his nose, sitting on a closed toilet seat and waiting for voices to leave the vicinity, still covered with blood from his whispered spell and just wanting the damn substance off of him. His left lashes tried sticking to the top of his cheek, peeling off one follicle at a time to reveal a slowly adjusting eye. He'd found over time that his left eye would go through spells of minute loss. He couldn't explain it himself, knowing that it was his _right_ that had been so injured. Kenny had made the offhand suggestion after he'd told him of a fuzziness problem that maybe it was his humanity, his angelic tendencies battling it out; that the demon was losing.

Kyle was more than sure that he was wrong, but _damn_ did it make him feel better to think about that now and then.

Given, he always hated to admit it, but his demonic prowess came out more than what Kenny had so graciously shared with him. Senses and strength didn't exactly fade from him, even the fluctuating eyesight probably still clearer than any 20/20 human's. It was an _interesting_ but isolating notion. Kyle often wondered how it would be when he was older, how fifty, sixty, upwards him would be. Would he age the same as his friends and family? Or would he still be able to propel himself up buildings when he was goddamn ninety-four? With Kenny, it wasn't so worrisome, he himself would probably have a least a bit of a boost with his own heavenly blood. But _Kat_. What about _her_? What if she was mentally preparing to lose her fathers or figure out where to put them in their advanced age, coming to visit only to see Kyle moving around far spryer than even herself?

Kyle leaned back, sad gleams dancing over his sclera. Hell, he'd found rather quickly that the notion of _illness_ was far gone from him. His days of testing his blood sugar and buckling down in the winter for the annual bout of pneumonia had ceased. He found himself wandering in that fact more often than he cared to admit, curious as to what it would be that would finally be the final call. Old age? But how old _was_ old age for a demon? Was it diminished by his soul's division? Would he just wander around until someone fucking _slayed_ him way down the line? He'd only had five years, the only aging he'd discovered being sparse gray hairs that he could simply attribute to ridiculous amounts of stress. Maybe he wouldn't know until his forties or later.

His ears perked as the voices finally left the bathroom, listening and sniffing the air a bit for the smell of stray humans before finally dubbing the area as clear and hurrying out to the sinks, snatching a paper towel and rushing to get it wetted and start cleaning himself. He grumbled, reminding himself that he needed to bring a towel into the stall _with him_. Given, he couldn't be _too_ shocked he'd blanked, it'd been quite some time since he'd had to perform his ritual in public. The last he recalled was nearly four years prior, getting caught up by a train on their way to a date night had forced Kyle to spend nearly a half hour in the restroom waiting for a seemingly never-ending parade of people going in and out. Kenny had made it worth it, ordering a bottle of far-too pricey wine that Kyle had always had a fondness for and whisking him out with their food to go eat in the bed of his truck in the woods where the passage of time meant nothing.

A sad, fond smile crawled up Kyle's lips. They hadn't done something like that since Kat was born, their date nights now full of ordering pizza and trying to steal kisses between Kat waking up from nightmares wanting a story and Valefor beating his paw against Kyle's leg wanting to be let outside. But, Kyle figured, that was perfect. It was a very _human_ experience to be so swept up in the happenings of the home and their child to not be able to peel themselves away as they pleased. It was a rigorous structure that Kyle was more than happy to welcome, gladly taking the insanity of working dinner around Kat's ballet classes as opposed to the supernatural happenings that hovered over him oh-so-menacingly.

He sighed, scrubbing the last of his blood off his lips and hands, tilting his head around to be sure he masked all visible scars around his neck. He couldn't help a coy smirk at the markings he was _happy_ to still see: the splotches of purple and red still dancing around his throat and collarbone and the clear imprint of Kenny's teeth marks, Bebe's quick touchup job washed away with his blood. After all, Bebe had told him through her laughter as she pulled the boys aside and starting patting foundation against Kyle's skin, no bride wanted to see that her guests were getting laid a hell of a lot better than _she_ was.

Kyle shook his head, tossing his towel into the trash and snagging a new one, wiping off stray water droplets and trying to get himself somewhat presentable again. He knew just how it was going beyond the wall and down the hallway, Kenny was schmoozing in that fashion that made him blend so seamlessly into any crowd he found himself in. No doubt spending the majority of his time too busy ranting about Kyle and Kat to remember questions regarding himself. Given, not like Kyle could call him an idiot for that, he had a tendency to do the same thing with him in his rare outings. He threw out his drying towel and looked up at himself, taking a deep breath and fixing the sleeves of his dress shirt to their ¾ positioning, snagging his phone out of his pocket and resetting his alarms. "All right," he murmured to himself, flipping on a round of four warnings before putting the device back into place. "Few more hours. Just a few. Avoided this twice already. You got this," he assured himself, smoothing down a cluster of curls trying to make a break for it.

This wedding was already _far_ longer than he'd accounted for, not exactly _thrilled_ with having the ceremony taking three hours in of itself, and being kept at this damn reception for nearly _six_ after the group had gone off to have lunch with one another. He was caught between mortal exhaustion, but a need to be polite, and demonic wiry impatience, not sure which side to lean on heavier. Didn't matter, he surmised. He was letting Kenny call the shots on this one. Kenny was his public relations man, Kyle long since losing all hope of keeping in mind his social cues with his overwhelming paranoia. Only when Kyle was getting _massively_ uncomfortable would Kenny slip them out of the party in that oh-so-smooth way he'd perfected over the years and save Kyle from heavy questioning. Kyle was fine with that. Their friends were happy to see them, Kenny was happy to throw back a few and discuss something with adults that didn't involve PTA meetings, and Kyle was just happy to see Kenny excitable again.

Another deep breath expanded his chest, a final act to gather himself before turning on his heel and heading out the bathroom door into the barren hallway. He glanced towards the sign outside the right room, the fancily embossed gold-lettering reading _'Donovan-Knitts Party'._ He made way back into the dimly lit room, sharp ears picking up Kenny's voice from the back right off and starting to walk towards him, stopped by a sudden hand around his arm.

He whirled around to see a grinning blonde holding a drink out for him. "Saved your beer," Bebe cooed.

Kyle snorted, taking the bottle and tipping it towards her, "You're my hero."

"Hmm I know," she smiled, reaching up and leaning on his shoulder, looking towards Kenny before glancing back at him. "So. You and Ken all good?"

"Yeah, great. You already asked," he chuckled.

She waved him off, "I asked when you were _together_. Doesn't count when you're standing with each other." Amused eyes rolled, Kyle taking a small sip of his drink. "Asked him, too," she continued, tipping her wine glass in her hand. "He somehow got onto ranting about how great your meatloaf is. I'm not sure what kind he was referring to."

He let out a soft snort, "If he called _that_ my 'meatloaf', we'd already be halfway through divorce proceedings." She cackled, leaning her head against his shoulder and shaking it lightly. She pulled back again and looked at him thoughtfully, Kyle catching a question lingering in her stare. "What? What's wrong?"

"Are you sure everything's okay?" she asked quietly. "You so rarely talk to anyone anymore."

Kyle paused, looking at her worry and taking another sip to stall. She wasn't wrong, he'd all but cut everyone off aside from he and Kenny sending out holiday cards and shooting out happy birthday texts. "Yeah. Everything at home is great," he promised. "Just been, ya know, working through some… personal stuff," he said, choosing his words with care.

She leaned back off of him, taking a drink of her merlot and biting her lip. "What kind of stuff?"

He shrugged, tucking curls behind his ear. "Nothing too big. Just kind of dealing with my mother and trying to figure out the best way to get Kat down the right path, ya know?"

Bebe nodded slowly, "Makes sense. That girl's gonna be _great_. After all, she has _my_ genes," she batted her lashes.

Kyle snorted, "I know, that's why I can't get her fucking hair to calm down."

"Oh, _you're_ one to talk," she teased, reaching up and springing one of his own curls.

"Different when your hair is short, Bebe."

"I keep tellin' 'im if he lets his hair grow out, it'd put a good five inches on 'im," Kenny's cheeky tone popped up, the both of them looking to see him, Stan, and Wendy heading towards them with smirks.

"Yeah, and if I cut off your dick you'd lose _two_."

" _Wow_ ," he looked at him in hurt, punching his arm lightly. "You are _mean_." Kyle chuckled, elbowing him a tad and sliding under his arm as he raised it, letting him clasp around his shoulders.

Wendy looked out onto the floor and let out a weary sigh. "Well, guess we pulled off a decent party on her shitty budget, huh?"

"It's great, Wends," Kyle assured her. "Surprised _Annie_ had a shitty budget, though."

Bebe groaned, "She spent so fucking much on her _dress_. The fact that we managed to help her afford caterers is kind of a miracle."

"You gals can do anything, can't ya?" Kenny grinned. "There's a reason Ky and I handed shit off to Sheila."

"Yeah. Fear of her bringing her wrath upon me," Kyle said flatly, getting a chuckle and a kiss atop his head.

Stan rolled his eyes, "That and you two don't know colors for shit."

"All right there, leave the interior decorating snark to the gay men, thanks," Kenny scoffed. "And fuck you, Kat loves to color, we've _had_ to get good at that shit."

"Seriously. You put her blue picture up with a slightly lighter blue magnet and she _freaks_ ," Kyle laughed.

Bebe smirked, nudging him lightly. "So she has my hair but your perfectionism? What's she got from Ken?"

"Her ability to get on my last nerve with a single syllable," he shrugged, snorting at a warning shake from Kenny. "My mistake. With _six_ syllables."

Stan cocked his brow in amusement, "Six?"

He put on his best pouting face, " _'But Papa said I couullldddd,'"_ he quoted, looking up at his husband wryly.

Ken pouted, "Oh my _god_ , Pop-Tart milkshakes are _delicious_ , Kyle. It's been three months, let it go."

"And kept her wired for six hours!" he reminded him. "She missed school!"

Wendy looked up at Stan and shook her head. "A vasectomy. You're getting one."

"What the fuck, no!" Stan protested. "Besides, Alex isn't that bad. He doesn't have these two morons as parents," he gestured to the two as they finally broke their stare to look at him with pouts. He turned to the overly-amused Bebe. "We're not like that… right?" he winced.

She cackled, "You're _worse_. They talk about little spats; you talk about _wars_. And then won't talk to each other until me and Kyle can get your heads out of your asses. This is why Token and me are only _considering_ a kid."

"You've already been pregnant once," Wendy reminded her. "Second time I hear isn't too awful."

"I like having wine with dinner, okay?" she cocked a freshly-plucked brow. "Besides, it wasn't the pregnancy that was awful, it's the idea of _raising_ it. I was more than happy handing Kat off to these two," she bumped lightly against Kyle's arm. "I like spoiling myself too much. I don't know how I'd do with a kid."

"You'd be a great mom, Bebe," Kyle said. "But not everyone wants to be a parent, nothing wrong with that."

Kenny nodded, "Exactly. So more kiddos born of generous, _beautiful_ ladies such as yourself to help give us non-uterus havers our kiddos."

Bebe smirked, "You already got your kid. Stop sucking up."

"I'm so _good_ at it though," he teased. Kyle chuckled and nodded in agreement, taking another long sip of his drink as the conversation continued to flow.

He paused, lips peeling off his bottle with a small _pop_ as the voice around him all at once became hazy. Kyle glanced around, hearing the murmurs of sound but unable to pick out particular phrases. Something was blocking him. Something was fogging over him, demanding his attention… He narrowed his eyes, hearing the beginning of a clearer sound beginning to approach him through the endless cavern of echoes.

" _Li… se…"_

He blinked, eyes floating up to look past Wendy's shoulder to the wall, straightening as he tried to pinpoint the noise.

" _Lit… ouse…"_

Kenny felt him go rigid, head shooting down, heart clenching at the blank expression on his husband's face slowly beginning to creep into terror. "Kyle?" he asked breathlessly, slipping his arm off his shoulders and moving a bit more in front of him.

Kyle's throat bobbed with a gulp, fingers clenching around his beer as he blinked rapidly, praying for something other than what his mind was filling in the blanks for. _It_ _couldn't be._

" _Oh, little mouse,"_ the voice broke through, clear as day. A gasp left him before he could stop it, entire form locking up at that still-familiar tone dripping with such malice, such _hunger_.

"Kyle? Kyle!" Kenny gripped his shoulder, shaking him a bit as the other three looked on in bewilderment. A hollowness sank into Kyle's eyes faster than he could keep up with, a terror that Kenny hadn't seen in so long beginning to take hold on him again. "Kyle, Babe, talk to me!" he demanded.

" _Little mouse, little mouse,"_ he crooned. _"Just where are you?"_

Kyle's lashes fluttered in panic, fingers loosening and his beer slipping from his grasp, bouncing off of and splashing onto Kenny's shoe, the man not the least bit deterred as he tried to bring Kyle back into the room. He placed himself in front of his face, dropping his own drink to clatter noisily against the other bottle and grasping onto him with both hands, trying to talk him out of wherever he was going. Kyle couldn't hear him, seeing through his moving lips and his own jaw trembling as he was kept in the isolated haze.

" _You're certainly not here, so where oh where could you be?"_ the voice purred.

The tone of his nightmares, the daily _title_ he heard every single morning was rebounding within his own mind. He was trapped; he was unable to get away from him _yet again_.

"Kyle! Please! You gotta talk to me!" Kenny shouted, attention dropping from the party and heads slowly turning their way as Ken desperately tried to move his statuesque husband. They didn't matter. What mattered was the fear on Kyle's face, the all-too-familiar gaze of helplessness that still lingered in the back of his mind from so long ago. Kenny's blood began to warm, forcing himself to calm down before powers overthrew logic, before he ended up hurting someone trying to get Kyle _out_.

" _If I'm not with you, and I'm not with McCormick… then just what other part of your family could I_ _ **possibly**_ _be with?"_ A terrified, strangled gasp left Kyle's throat, unable to feel Kenny's hands tightening around him in equal consternation. Deep, dark chuckles echoed through the mist, that familiar vibrato sending a chill cascading down Kyle's spine. _"I'm waiting for you, little mouse."_

The haze dissipated all at once, Kyle looking up to find Kenny still screaming at him. He reached up and grabbed Kenny's tie, dragging him down and scared whimpers leaking between them, not taking notice of the wedding party staring at them in befuddlement. Kenny cupped his face in his hands, the worry spilling over his words as he rambled hastily. "Kyle? Babe? What happened? What's _wrong_?" he begged.

Kyle blinked, the world out of focus aside from the man, the _angel_ , staring at him in doting concern. He knew. Kenny knew _exactly_ what he'd just been subjected to, knowing that flare of protectiveness shooting through steadily mirroring irises anywhere. He gripped onto him tighter, tears welling his eyes as the reality took a hold of him and clamped down around his throat, managing only a strangled croak:

" _He has Kat."_


	8. Greater Love Hath No Man Than This

" **He who curses his father or his mother, His lamp will go out in time of darkness."** _ **-Proverbs 20:20**_

The group surrounding them could do nothing but look at one another in loss, perplexed by the utter horror spilling onto the men's faces. The party continued to stay at its halt, everyone stuck watching the fluster of nerves spawning from the two of them. Cartman wandered his way over to the group, the only partygoer daring to make a move towards the simmering disaster, his footsteps echoing dully under the still flowing music in the background. He raised his brow at the unfamiliar expressions, leaning towards them and head dramatically swiveling between their height differences as he tried to catch their attention. "The fuck is wrong with you fags?"

Stan waved him off and took a small step forward in their frozen state as they both desperately tried to recover from their shock and get moving. He licked his lips, tentatively putting a hand on his best friend's shoulder. He knew this look better than nearly anyone, seeing it on Kyle time and again in their childhood. Well. Something close. But nothing quite as _chilling_ as the utter fear raging through him right now. He vaguely wondered if he'd ever seen such a purely petrified expression before, if he'd ever been even _close_ to relating to whatever range of emotion they were dealing with. His mind fleeted over panic attacks of the past, not recognizing any of his telltale signs leading up towards the inevitable downfall he'd guided him through time and again. "Kyle?" he asked softly, shaking him just enough for Kyle's head to bobble as he continued to be stuck gaping at Kenny. " _Who_ has Kat?"

The echo shocked Kyle back up into attention, time finally falling back to its normal pace as he ignored Stan and began frantically rattling his husband. "Kenny, he has her! We gotta go! NOW!"

Kenny snapped out of his trance and nodded, grabbing Kyle's hand and the both of them tearing away from the group, leaving them dumbfounded in the dust. They burst through the hall doors, making way towards the front entrance. Kenny's teeth were clattering, looking at Kyle for a mere glance. "You're _sure_?"

"I know his _fucking_ voice when I hear it!" he shouted, pivoting and slamming the front door open with his shoulder, bringing both of them into the chilled night air and making way towards the setting sun. Kyle shot his head around frantically, trying to find Damien's telltale pull against him to lead them onwards.

"Can you find them?!" Kenny begged.

He stopped in his tracks, whipping his head to face South as a sharp crack in his mind rang through clear-cut as a blade and his jaw trembled. "My parents'," he whispered. "They're at my parents'!" He gripped Kenny's hand tighter, changing their course and running them forward.

"Ken! Kyle!" a voice called behind them, both of them glancing to see Stan dragging Cartman to run after them. "Guys what's wrong?!" he begged.

Kyle gulped, glancing at Kenny. "Let's just hope they forget this, I'm not waiting around." Kenny nodded in agreement, Kyle's left eye picking up its red glow under the false jade hue, staring at the ground and the both of them stepping straight into a pool of black shadows spontaneously spawning before them. They sank down into the abyss, followed by the panicked screams of their friends, glancing up through the darkness to see the both of them staring into the hole in paled fright before it sealed. The men clutched around each other, hitting the bottom curve and launching back up to their new destination. Kenny held onto Kyle possessively, mind racing. He needed his sword. He needed empty ground to use his power, to get Damien down and finish what he'd started. Fingers trembled and wrapped tighter around Kyle's arm. He knew what this was, knew exactly where Damien was going to try to get it to lead. Fuck if he knew how the hell to prevent it, though; a fact that made his chest twist in a leaded culpability.

They traveled up through the void, Kyle silently praying he'd done it right and gotten them where they needed to be. He'd only done this spell twice before, going from room to room to get away from Kenny when he'd pissed him off and had blocked the door trying to force him to talk out their issues. The distance here was considerably greater; he could only hope the same principles applied. _'Don't let him do anything to her,'_ he begged. They both gritted their teeth, tensing as they rapidly approached the light above, seeing the periwinkle and rose clouds wafting aimlessly in innocent streaks, indicative of not the slightest care in the world. Kenny and Kyle growled, lurching up through the portal and landing hard on the ground in front of the Broflovski homestead, launching into an automatic sprint to get to the house. Kyle made way first, hand twisting the knob hard enough to crack the brass and shove the barrier open. He landed in the living room, the sight of glowing wings and drawn, shimmering swords catching his eye. Three familiar, horrified faces turned to greet him, paled and reeking of horrific truths.

"No! Get Kyle _out_!" Michael commanded.

The ripe stench of blood hit Kyle all at once, glancing towards the floor and his eyes widened, bile rising and a tremendous scream ripping out of his throat at the mutilated sight below him. Kenny peered down as he came up behind him, eying the two corpses laid out deliberately at Kyle's feet. He gasped, grabbing Kyle and turning him around, forcing his face into his shirt to stop him from seeing the bodies.

Kyle couldn't stop shrieking, trying to turn back to look, trying to do the impossible and save his parents, Kenny refusing to let him budge and fully take in the massacre. Ken whimpered, the true shock in Gerald and Sheila's opened, glazed eyes ringing loud and clear, throats mangled with veins slashed asunder and frayed nerve fibers creeping through their skin like hundreds of fingers grasping for hope. Fresh blood continued to pump out of their wounds and saturate the carpet, a pool coalescing between them as they laid not four feet apart, hands outstretched towards the other.

"WHERE'S KAT?!" Kyle choked, ripping back from Kenny's chest, still trapped in his arms and glancing towards the archangels with tears streaming down his face. "WHERE IS SHE?!"

Raphael clenched his teeth. "Ken, get him _out_! Now!"

"Ohhhh _not_ a good idea," a smooth purr emanated from the front of the room, all eyes drawn towards the source of the noise. The tall, cocky demon leaned against the far wall outside the kitchen, red eyes brimming with malevolence as he locked on target. "He goes anywhere, he'll regret it."

Kenny forced Kyle behind himself, shielding him as they both stared at his cooled demeanor. Kenny kept his grip locked on Kyle's arms, infuriation ravaging through him faster than he could keep up with. "WHERE IS SHE, DAMIEN?!" he demanded.

Damien chuckled, reaching behind the kicked-out armchair and yanking out Kat's hiding form by the arm, the girl bursting into tears and hitting him with tiny fists. "Got your spunk, doesn't she, little mouse?" he asked with a fanged grin. He hiked her up into the air, staring at her a bit and humming. "Not a drop of you _or_ McCormick's blood though. So she's a weak little nothing mortal. Just like _you_ once were," he looked back at Kyle's petrified face locked on his daughter. "Tell me, does it _hurt?_ Raising a daughter, knowing she'll never understand what a _monster_ you truly are?"

"Knock it off and put her _down_!" Kenny snapped.

Damien tongued over his fangs, tossing her in the air a bit and catching her around the waist, holding her against his hip. "L-let… let go!" she wailed, aimlessly slapping at his stomach and chest. Kenny and Kyle looked on helplessly, glancing at the angels for a plan, the three of them looking as lost as they were.

"So," he cooed, leaning back casually against the wall and allowing Kat to continue her little assault. "How are _you_?"

"Let her _go_ ," Kyle demanded through gritted teeth, stepping out to stand beside Kenny, ignoring the arm his husband automatically placed in front of him. He cringed at the stench of blood hitting him all over again in a new wave, mingling with the smell of his mother's pungent perfume. The one she'd worn since he was a child; the smell of coming home from long days at school seeking her advice, of cooking lessons and getting tucked into bed, now tarnished forever with the thick aroma of iron and the feeling of blank, empty green eyes looking up at him.

"Papa, Daddy, make him s-stop!" Kat begged, wincing at Damien's arm gripping her just a tad tighter.

"Yes, make me _stop_ ," Damien mocked. Deep eyes flickered about to the angels with their swords drawn. "And I'd suggest you get the Prissy Brigade here to back away. Since their swords wouldn't treat _Kat_ so kindly, would they?" The dads went rigid at her name, their defenses shot through all at once and ice spreading through their veins. Damien grinned, seeing the desperation quickly mounting within their expressions, the pure _need_ to get her out of harm's way at any cost. He certainly had his price, and from Kenny's insistence at keeping Kyle as far back as possible, there was no doubt that he knew _precisely_ what it was. "You're being very _rude_ ," he taunted. "I _asked_ you a question. Don't want your poor, _innocent_ daughter to end up like your _parents_ , do you, little mouse?" he hissed with morbid glee, already claiming victory with his spiteful tone.

Kyle's lip trembled, locking into those damnable red eyes that he'd prayed that he'd never have to see again. The eyes that he was _sworn_ would never come near his daughter. "What do you want?" he asked, strength drained from his voice all at once in the overwhelming situation. He was no fool; he already knew the answer. Once more he was finding himself trapped in the middle, circumstances far too risky for him to do anything but take the option presented to him and work it out from the ground up. But he needed to hear it, needed to lay out the substratum to get Kat away from him and figure it all out from there. Kenny tightened his grip on Kyle's arm, Kyle feeling the tremors racking through his husband's core.

Damien gave a sly, derisive pout, reading the knowledge with ease as it traveled between the two across from him. "Oh, little mouse. I think you know _exactly_ what I want." Kyle gulped, fingers hooking into the fabric on Kenny's back, needing a semblance of stability to keep him from toppling all at once.

Kenny snarled viciously, irises shifting wildly, "Put Kat down and fucking _fight me_ if you want him so bad!"

"Hm, I already _did_ fight you for him," he shrugged nonchalantly, brushing off Kat's hand as she tugged at his shirt trying to escape. "And I _won_. Certainly don't see angel wings when his little spell wears off, do you? That's _me_ on his pretty little face. Not you." He ignored the infuriated growl from Kenny's throat, gaze slithering back over to Kyle, loving the repulsed, compromised glaze in his eyes. "So. What's it gonna be, little mouse? Keep yourself happy and safe? Or your little girl?" he shook Kat pointedly. She cried out from the jostling, looking up at her fathers fearfully.

Kyle's heart lurched at the horror in that dark blue stare, the tears trailing down her plump cheeks and the sight of backsplash blood lingering on her short, dangling legs. He blinked off his own set of tears and nodded, holding his hands up in front of him, "Fine. _Fine_! Just put her _down_." Kenny looked back at him with a distressed whimper, Kyle glancing back, silently begging him to just let him do this. To figure it out _after_ their daughter was out of the enemy's hands.

Damien grinned, "Not just yet. I know you're eager, but you have to be patient, little one. After all, you're too feisty to go without being _leashed_." He held up his hand, the group watching a familiar cuffs of iron fall into his palm. Kat's eyes bulged at the materialization, never seeing such a feat outside the cartoons she and Kenny watched together. "Remember these?" Damien purred, threading the chain through his fingers. Kyle's chest clenched, recalling them _all_ too well. One of the last things he remembered before waking up nearly dead on the clouds atop Kenny, the way they bit into his skin and refused to budge against his struggles in the slightest, absorbing every bit of demonic prowess and trapping it in the metallic fibers. "A miracle I found them, really," Damien continued. "They'd been all by themselves in a field for _years_ after you decided to pull your little banishment shit. Still hold all of you, still _smell_ of you," he cocked his brow superiorly at the disgust washing over Kyle's face. "And they've _missed you_." He shot his stare to Kyle's seething husband, watching his eyes mirroring over and the man trying desperately to remain in control to prevent any injuries befalling their child. "Put them on him," he demanded, whipping the chains to him.

Kenny caught the heavy cuffs in one hand, looking from them to Kyle and his jaw shaking. He couldn't do this. Not again. He couldn't just hand Kyle over to be tortured _again_.

"Kenny, just _do it_ ," Kyle ordered, putting his hands up between them.

"Ahp. Behind your back, little mouse," Damien directed. "I know you too well, can't have you trying anything funny."

"You don't know _shit_ about me," he hissed.

He smirked, "I know you don't want your daughter murdered in front of you. I think that's plenty of ground to work off of, don't you?"

A tremoring breath rattled through his ribcage, Kyle pivoting and putting his hands behind his back while Kenny stared at him brokenheartedly. "Kenny. Please. Just get it _over with_!" Kyle pleaded over his shoulder. Kenny looked from his husband's bristling form to Kat's teary face and he sniffled, nodding briskly.

"You fucking asshole," He spat at Damien, moving one of the iron holds to snap around Kyle's wrist. He quickly scanned over for a way to loosen the chains, growling under his breath at the lack of visible hinges. His thumb reassuringly stroked over Kyle's forearm, both of them cringing at the sound of the second chain clamping down around his thin carpal.

The angels watched them, faces fallen and fingers clutching in despair around their hilts. Kenny and Kyle shot them all a look that they could read loud and clear: As soon as Kat was out of the way, they were to take him _down_. They turned back to face the almost _giddy_ stance of the antichrist as he watched Kyle shifting uncomfortably in his chains. "You _coward_ ," Gabriel spat.

"Oh stick it in your horn and blow it," Damien rolled his eyes. He met the stare of Kyle again, grinning excitedly. It'd already begun: Him awaiting orders, Kenny in a state of loss and confliction, unable to truly interfere with Damien's plan as he wished. Five years of memories rolled back all at once, seeing that pure fear rearing its head yet again _just_ for him. This was well worth the wait. Or, it would be once he had what he'd came here for. "You're so insistent to get this going, little one," Damien taunted. "You must have _missed_ being at my side."

Kyle shuddered with nausea, glancing up at a purely animalistic snarl coming from Kenny, his eyes gleaming and shifting as he tried to keep himself grounded. Kyle moved and grasped his hand awkwardly from his own's bound positioning, stroking his thumb over Kenny's tremoring fingers. He turned his attention back on the enemy. "Okay, put her down and I'll come over there."

He snorted, "Oh _please_. I know it's been a few years, so perhaps you forget... Well, _five years_ to be precise. Of me laid up in recovery while you were off raising this ' _offspring'_ of yours _oh-so-carefree_ ," his face fell into a dark glare. "But just how _stupid_ do you think I am?"

"Ya _really_ want an answer to that?" Kenny challenged.

"You _really_ want to see me crush your daughter's ribs?" he retorted, venom leaking through his fangs and watching their faces drop from fury into terror once more. He paused, allowing himself to indulge in soaking up this moment. He had them on his strings, the both of them _far_ more compliant than he'd ever seen either of them; and all it took was a mere 29 pounds of persuasion. "Now, I'm not moving until I have what I want," he dropped back to his soothing tone, reaching down into his pocket and snagging a long, thick piece of charcoal-stained cloth. "The mouse is a _biter_ ," he claimed. Red eyes glowed with an eerie hue in the dimly lit room, the fabric gliding over to Kenny's hands until he grabbed it, staring at it with a cinched heart. " _Now_ , McCormick."

The men shared a look with one another, the connotations reading loud and clear: Kyle wasn't getting out of this here. No way would Damien allow it. He'd have to go along until Kenny could find a way to get him out. Kenny leaned down and planted his lips against Kyle's, ignoring the disgusted scoff from the other side of the room as he kept against Kyle's shaking mouth. _"I'll be down there in_ _ **minutes**_ _,"_ he swore in a murmur.

Kyle nodded briskly, eyes scrunched tight and trying to preserve the moment, let it linger and reassure him before he stepped towards God knew what was waiting for him. " _Keep her up there and hurry_ ," he whispered back, getting a nod back.

"I'd suggest you _move this along_ ," Damien said dangerously. The men reluctantly pulled apart, Kenny slowly bringing up the cloth between them, lip wobbling at the strong, nostalgic smell of brimstone and blood slamming into Kyle and making him jerk back uneasily.

" _Few minutes_ ," he reiterated inaudibly as their eyes met. Kyle nodded him on, mouth opening slightly to allow the gag passage between his lips. Kenny swallowed a throat's worth of bile, stomach twinging in pain, spurned by such guilt and _hatred_. He stepped behind him, loosely tying the knot within his curls and tremoring.

Damien rolled his eyes, "Tighter than _that_ , McCormick."

Kenny growled, looking down at Kyle's fingers twisting into the front of his shirt, encouraging him to just play along for now. Do what he says and focus on getting him out only _after_ this transaction was complete. He tightened the tie, a scared breath wracking through Kyle's nose as the knot secured around the base of his skull.

A deep, husky chuckle reverberated around the room. " _Good boy_ ," Damien cooed, relishing in yet another flinch, watching as five years of recovered trauma came flooding back at once. Kyle's eyes began to dull, as blank as the day he'd left him naked and vulnerable, curled up on the floor of his prison. Kenny gripped Kyle's shoulders, trying to keep him down with him, not willing to watch him fall apart again. His lip curled viciously, daggers pointed straight at the antichrist. Only a few minutes of this standoff had passed; a few _minutes_ and he'd already plucked the threads and began to unravel what Kyle had worked so fucking _hard_ to build back up. "So," Damien continued. "I'm going to need all you little pristine fuckers to back the _fuck_ up," he demanded.

The angels looked back towards the boys for indication, Kyle nodding solemnly. They took deep breaths, backing up to stand beside the two of them, eyes focusing uneasily between the two demonic presences dominating the room. Kat let out a long, miserable groan, stomach and back aching from her held positioning as she continued to try to smack her way out of Damien's grip. Damien looked down at her waning energy and smirked, shaking her a bit. "There, there," he said, a false saccharine tone mucking over thick derision. "Your _daddy_ is going to keep you safe. Isn't he?" he grinned at Kyle's fuming stance, staring him down for talking to his child so casually. "Well, if he wants to, he better _get over here_ ," a thick brow hiked in challenge.

Kyle gulped, looking at the four surrounding him watching him in terror and sympathy, turning his attention back forward and taking a shaking breath. He took a step forward, feeling the squish of coagulating blood riding up from the carpet fibers against the sole of his shoe and cringing. He glanced down at his father's limp, outstretched hand in front of him, whimpering subtly as he stepped over him with care, rapidly blinking pure heartache off thick lashes.

"Just think," Damien commented at his pause. "If you'd let them take her to the synagogue, they would've still been there and would've been completely safe. I can't so easily get in _there_. You might've stopped by; might've had a chance to protect them." Kyle's breath hitched, eyes glossing over with rampant tears and an agonizing guilt all at once. His heart thudded dully, broken pieces of the morning's conversation raining over him and flooding his ears, hearing that _spiteful_ tone he'd last used against his mother. It was the last time she'd heard him say anything, and it was so unnecessarily _cruel_.

"You mother **fucker**!" Kenny screamed. "Ky, don't _listen to him_ , he's full of shit!"

Damien grinned, "Come now, even _he_ knows I'm not wrong."

"Stop the mind games, Damien!" Michael spat, putting a comforting hand on Kenny's shoulder to hold him back, knowing well enough he was reaching the end of his patience and could easily turn this into an emotionally blinded attack that he'd regret.

"Don't listen to him," Raphael reemphasized, knowing the thin wire Kyle was traipsing across. "Don't listen to someone so weak as to hide behind a _toddler_."

"A toddler who I think would appreciate this little tradeoff moving a bit faster, hm?" Damien taunted, shaking Kat again and looking down for a moment at her heaving cries. Her lungs were aching, confused as to why her parents hadn't gotten her yet, why her dad was tied up and looked more terrified than she'd ever seen him before, wondering who was even _holding her_. The questions just wouldn't stop racing through her mind, unable to sort them or figure out what held more weight; why weren't her grandparents getting off the floor? Why was her papa almost crying and letting her dad walk out alone? Who was _with them_ and why did they look like the pictures in the book Sarah had showed her at school? Her focus shifted back onto her dad, watching him take small steps forward, slim shoulders heaving and a spectral gleam over his downcast eyes.

She bit her lip, croaking out an equally scared, "Daddy?"

Kyle looked up at her voice, locking stares with her for a moment and biting down bitterly on his gag. He was going to rip Damien apart himself. The _second_ they were in Hell and Kat was out of the possible crossfire, he'd find a way to contort and chew through his own fucking wrist just for the pleasure of tearing his throat to shreds and watching him drown in his own blood. He wasn't getting away with this. Not again. _Never_ again. He glanced up to the air of impatience starting to crowd Damien's watchful eye, taking a deep breath and raising his head up firmly. Couldn't let him see his words were already getting to him. No, that was for when Kenny finished this monster off and got him back home, he could dwell and mourn _then_.

His shoulders rolled back, fists clenching behind him as he came up two steps in front of Damien's waiting posture and devious grin. He looked at Kat and back up to him, narrowing his eyes. A small huff of a laugh left Damien's nose, forked tongue gliding over his fangs as he stared down that oh-so-familiar determination for the first time in so goddamn long. Kyle flinched at a long arm darting forward and snagging his collar, dragging him up to nearly lean against him, breath picking up a nervous rhythm. Damien leaned down in his face and smirked, "Long time, no see. Or at least, you didn't see _me_."

Kyle snarled in disgust, trying to get out of his grasp before being wrangled in closer. He looked towards Kat as she latched onto his sleeve with shaky fingers, tugging at him to get her away from the demon. His head leaned back as the claw of Damien's thumb came up, tracing casually along his throat, riding the ridge of his adam's apple and humming. Kyle growled, tearing his gaze from his frantic daughter back to the demon, eyes wide and full of that impatient fire Damien was waiting for.

Kenny looked on helplessly, trying to figure out how to get them both away from him. "Damien, put her down!" he screamed. "Kyle did what you said, let her go!"

Damien clicked his tongue, not letting his gaze falter from Kyle's. "Hm, I'm already fulfilling my end of the bargain." Kyle's brow creased, Damien's hand cupping his chin and thumb stroking over his cheek. Kyle shuddered, feeling the scar Resurrection left across his palm, straight through the pentagram they shared. "She's not being hurt, _is she_?" he whispered.

"Daddy, make him… make him _pu'me down_ ," Kat begged, pulling harder on his sleeve. He broke from his hate-filled stare and gave her a soft expression, telling her to just _wait_ , that he'd make this all go away. It was the same look he'd given her with a fall on the sidewalk when Valefor got a little too excited and bumped into her while she was playing, sending her toppling to the pavement and scraping her arm up something nasty. A few neon pink Band-Aids and a silly story of how much her papa fell onto the ground had stopped her crying. Kyle picking up the guilty-looking Valefor's front half to meet her sitting on the table and telling him to apologize with a slobbering kiss had her laughing once again. And that trademarked comforting look he gave her when he promised it'd go away in just a few days, that'd he'd make sure of it, had her running back outside to play, ready to brave the possibility of another tumble. She fell quiet at the look, feeling its love and care and letting it try to override her building confusion.

Their silent conversation was snatched away at once as Damien reached over and snared Kyle's shoulder, whirling him around from her grip and tugging him firmly against his opposite side, hand tracing upwards and claws creeping down his face. Kyle groaned at the points digging into his flesh, head leaning back at their dictation against Damien's chest.

"Damien, put her down!" Kenny screeched again, unable to keep watching his husband being so casually _fondled_ , wanting to break forward and end this _now_.

A gleaming stare landed on Kenny's distraught form, a haughty quirk of the lips creeping up the monster's face. "Is something _wrong_ , McCormick?" he questioned innocently. "Don't like seeing your little family so… _disadvantaged_?" he hissed, grabbing Kyle's chin and forcing his head up higher, Kyle letting out a distressed, muffled cry at Damien leaning in closer, breath rebounding off his exposed throat. The years had been kind in Damien's favor, Kyle still carrying the same spiced scent he so perfectly recalled, salivating his famished palate. He could feel the subtle raise of the hair on the back of Kyle's neck and the bumps forming just under his exhale's touch, the prickling integumentary elements dancing towards him as though _impatient_ for his return.

Kyle's eyes strained as he glanced at the angels across the room, the four of them watching in intense trepidation. Kenny's hands clamped down over his mouth and rasping, panicked breaths seeped through his fingers. He looked down to Kat's teary face, trying to work his bound hands subtly over to grab her and throw her safely out of Damien's hold. Damien yanked him further from her, clutching him tighter and humming in amusement. It'd been so _long_ since he'd had such a complete hold of a situation, commanding the room and making damn sure his will was followed. It was nice to return to _such_ a glorious status.

"Damien," Gabriel breathed out slowly. "Put. The child. _Down_."

He chuckled, "I never agreed to put her down," he reminded them calmly. "I just promised she'd be safe. And if my little mouse here follows orders, not a hair on her head will be in danger."

The men all froze, realization settling upon them like an avalanche; just as cold and just as stifling, Kenny and Kyle subconsciously wondered if they would drown at the end of it all. Damien tightened his grip around Kyle's throat and held him back, his light choking breaking through the room's tensed, quiet air as red eyes began to glow.

" _No_ ," Kenny whispered, breath catching before he broke forward out of Michael's hands, trying to get to his family. He yelped, stopped in his tracks as he and the other angels were hit with a massive wave of power, flying back and slamming against the front wall, crumbling onto the floor in injured heaps. Kenny winced, looking up to see that telltale shadow spreading out under Damien's feet. Kyle stared at him, shouting out stifled pleas for his help as he tried to break off to get Kat out of the vortex's range, eyes flaring uselessly. Damien's grip only tightened around his neck, forcing him down against his side. Kenny leapt to his feet, taking off towards them with his teeth gritted and irises glossing over translucently.

"DAMIEN, NO!" he screeched, catching the glint of a fanged, victorious smirk. His world began to disappear before his very eyes, Kyle and Kat both desperately calling for him as they dropped down into the floor, seeping off into that inked nothingness as they remained tightly ensnared in the demon's grasp. Kenny cried out in frustration, diving to follow after them and crashing into the floor as it sealed. "No, no, NO!" he shrieked and scrambled up onto his knees, fingers ripping at the fibers, tears leaking down his cheeks as he tried to go after them. "YOU SON OF A BITCH GET BACK HERE AND FIGHT ME!" he screamed, continuing to tear at the flooring in a blind panic; a wild animal scratching uselessly against the cage he'd been so ruthlessly forced into.

"Kenny, Kenny, come on," Raphael ran up and grabbed under him, hauling him upright with his hands still frantically digging at nothing. "We have to get you up to God, _now_."

"Take me to Hell! I gotta get them out!" he begged through welling tears.

Gabriel swooped to Kenny's other side, helping Raphael turn him towards the door and begin dragging him towards the exit. "You need your sword and your full strength. We'll get you there," he swore. "Ken, we're going to get them out and safe, I promise. But we have to go!"

Kenny turned back to the spot where the portal had disappeared, gaze drifting down to Sheila and Gerald still lying lifeless on the floor, heart clenching at his mind's eye placing two other corpses right beside them. "Oh god," he whimpered, taking off into a sprint out the door as Michael stepped aside to rush them out, dragging Raphael and Gabriel behind him. He threw his arm around Raphael's shoulders and braced himself. "Go, go, go!" he demanded, the group hurriedly taking flight in a race to reach Heaven in time, leaving behind nothing but a bloodied, eerily still nothingness, still echoing with terror to an absent audience.


	9. Sacrifice and Service

" **Whoever seeks to keep his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life will preserve it." -** _ **Luke 17:33**_

The echo of the void was not treating his heightened hearing kindly, experiencing each of Kat's panicked gasps and feeling his heart clenching at every utterance. He yelled out, shaking his head and trying to get to her, halted by claws delving through the fine skin of his neck and locking him into place. Kyle groaned, looking up towards where they'd left Kenny, seeing the memory of his horrified face as he'd tried so desperately to reach them in time. He turned a bit, seeing Kat flailing from Damien's opposite side and his tied jaw trembled. A few minutes. Kenny said a few minutes…

He slumped a bit. That didn't matter, he knew well enough it wouldn't come to fruition. Kyle was what one could only call an expert on this game now. Damien knew just what chords to strike and would do so with vigor. He gulped, wincing at the claws pulling out of their light clasp on his throat and threading back up around his chin, pulling him further against Damien's side and scraping down the side of his burning cheek. A deep chuckle barreled through Damien's chest against Kyle's head, Kyle closing his eyes and shuddering. He and Kat yelped as they changed course and began floating back upwards towards their destination. Kyle glanced up, seeing that orange and red hue he'd hoped to never deal with again after becoming so accustomed to the crisp clarity that Heaven had provided him with for all his visitations.

Kat's jaw was trembling, teeth clattering as this turn of events ravaged everything she thought she knew. Her fingers unwittingly gripped tighter into the unknown man's shirt, scared to fall out of his grip and be lost in this plane of darkness. She looked over with wide eyes at her dad as he was kept in place by a bony hand and long fingernails, unused to anyone but her papa touching his face so casually and throwing her for a loop. Kyle jerked around, groaning as he was forced back into place and she gulped. He didn't want to be here either, his paled skin alit with an ashen, clammy glow as they drifted upwards towards wherever they were heading. Her head shot up at an approaching light far off in the distance, a warm hue beaming down towards the three of them. She yipped as she was hiked up a bit higher in Damien's grip, hearing a simple murmur coming from that unfamiliar voice in words she couldn't wrap herself around. She glanced down and squeaked at a soft glow radiating over her skin before it settled as quickly as it began.

Kyle shot his head back towards him, expression burning with fury at the Latin spilling from Damien's lips, unable to decipher just what it is that he just put against his daughter. Damien glanced down at his rage and chuckled, voice echoing deafeningly around them and squeezing his cheeks pointedly. "There there, little mouse. Just keeping her _safe_." Kyle growled before it slipped into a gasp as they burst through the portal back into light, both he and Kat slamming their eyes shut at the abrupt shift. They flinched as Damien landed hard on the broken wasteland, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck nonchalantly. He shook Kyle's head to get his attention back up and focused, watching him creak his eyes open towards an all-too-familiar cave, his expression dropping further like a deflating balloon. "Home sweet home, hm?" he taunted.

Kyle jerked his shoulders about, trying to get out of his grip and groaning as he was merely grabbed tighter. He watched with a panicked screech as Damien calmly tossed Kat forward, softening her landing against the ground with a small bubble of power and letting her topple over with an _'oof'_. He turned Kyle violently around in his grip, pulling him closer. Kyle attempted to get over to Kat as she looked up at him in tears, Damien forcing him to look back up at him and relishing in the pure hatred in his eyes. "There, there," he repeated, lightly brushing back curled bangs and watching the nausea creeping through his expression. "Nothing sinister about that spell. Put the same one on you when I brought you down here the first time," he assured him, flicking his nose lightly. "Just making sure the heat doesn't kill her. I'm doing it for _your_ benefit," he drawled.

Kyle's teeth clenched in his gag, eyes glowing wildly and Damien smirking at every ounce of power transferring down into the metal cinched around his wrists. Too easy. That entire exchange was just _too_ easy. Leave it to a _child_ to completely overshadow any hope of his target working through his words and figuring out the gaping loopholes he'd left. Kyle definitely wasn't going to be at the top of his game, not this time around; not when Damien had something so _precious_ to dangle over his head.

"Leggo!" a tiny voice demanded, looking down at shaking, small fists slamming against his thigh.

Kyle turned his attention her way as well, eyes widening, begging her through his cloth to get away from him, stay her distance and out of his reach. She couldn't make out his words, too busy focusing on getting this stranger away from the both of them and continuing to pummel him.

Damien cocked his brow with a smirk, looking back at Kyle and chuckling. " _Definitely_ has your spunk," he repeated, Kyle's eyes drifting up under a furrowed brow, an infuriated breath leaking through his nose. Damien looked back down at her assault, beginning to quickly grow impatient, displeased with his moment of relishing in his victory being interrupted. "Child," he said flatly, kicking his leg lightly against her to get her attention up on him. "Do you want to know what happens when _you_ misbehave?" he questioned, Kat staring at him with squinted eyes. She gasped as a hand clasped around Kyle's throat, her dad choking as he was lifted up off the ground and struggling to get down. Free fingers casually traced down Kyle's torso, eyes simmering with famished malice. He reared back, knuckles locked and claws catching the light of the sky as they flew forward, delving into Kyle's side. Kyle let out an agonized, muffled scream, Kat's sounds of horror rising over it at once. "Your father gets punished," Damien finished casually with the writhing man hectically kicking at him, pulling blood-soaked fingers back out of Kyle's muscle. Kat's vision locked at the dark solution, pupils shrinking as it dripped down his palm and soaked through her father's shirt. "Do you want him hurt?"

She shook her head briefly through her tears. "N-no," she croaked.

"Then you're _done_ with your little tantrum," he declared, whipping his arm to the side and sending Kyle crashing and sliding on the ground, kicking up dust and curling into himself as he tried to recover his breathing and fight the throbbing of his torso. Kat turned, stumbling as she ran over to him to look at his heaving form. Kyle tremored, bitter at his inability to automatically heal from the unexpected assault. He felt a light tugging on his sleeve, looking up to find Kat desperately trying to sit him up and his eyes widened. He scrambled upwards onto his knees and got between her and Damien, feeling her clutching into the back of his shirt and peeking around his waist as he and Damien stared each other down.

Damien crossed his arms, hip cocking and a smug grin curling up his lips. "Little mouse, you look so upset with me," he taunted. "Now I think it was _very_ kind of me to not kick her into a rock for being so rude. I would've thought _you_ would've raised her to be the nonviolent type."

Kyle screeched through his blocked mouth, green and muted red continuing to fire off with his infuriation. He flickered his eyes back at a small pull against the back of his gag, Kat trying incessantly to get it off of him and groaning as it refused to budge. He moved it out of her attempted grasp, leaning up a bit and sliding his bound arms down around her to shield her in, holding her tight against his back. Her face buried in against his shirt and tiny fingers gripped into the fabric, her mind just overwhelmed with everything happening in such a short span of time, no one explaining to her just _what_ was going on. Kyle shouted past his gag, words of fire spitting in muffled bursts.

Damien chuckled, loving every ounce of spite garnered. He pointed towards him, Kyle picking up his eyes' glow and holding onto Kat tighter, yelping as the cloth ripped from his mouth and flew back into Damien's hand. The antichrist casually tossed it in his palm, watching him in anticipation. "You were saying?"

Kyle took a shaking breath, swallowing down the terror in his voice. "Let me take her home," he worked out steadily. Damien gave him a scoff of a laugh and he growled. "Let me do that and I'll fucking _stay_ ," he insisted. "I won't fucking argue, I'll tell Ken to stay out of it and leave me here. Just let me take her _home_."

He rolled his eyes, "Again: How _stupid_ do you think I am?"

"Incredibly if you think threatening mine and Kenny's kid is going to get you anywhere but fucking killed!" he shot back.

"Not happening," he said stoutly. "She's collateral. If she's not here, I'm just dealing with you being a rebellious little fuck all over again."

He narrowed his eyes, voice dripping into monotonous acidity, "Isn't that why you wanted to fucking keep me in the first place?"

Damien's firm gaze broke for a bit of a smirk and a half-shrug. "True. But after the shit you pulled, I'm done playing with how much you'll fight. I want to see how far you'll _bend_ before you _break_ ," he spat bitterly. Kyle's teeth gritted, feeling Kat continuing to hide in his back and trying to escape whatever it was they'd been thrown into. She could feel the anxiety rushing through him, the utter fear he was working through as he kept defensively wrapped around her.

Kyle's lungs ached as he worked through a trembling breath, trying to keep his head on straight. He should've known it'd come to this one day. He'd just had too much hope, too much faith in the protection he was promised would fall onto his daughter. He slowly and calmly fought his way through his words, "It's one thing to keep me down here. But she's a _baby_. _Please_ ," he battled to get the word out. "Just let her go. Find a way to keep Kenny out, keep me in these fucking cuffs; I don't _care_ , just don't do this to a _child_."

He snorted lightly. As much as he was expecting such an automatic bend of will, he didn't think it would be quite _this_ delectable to observe. "Do what?" he asked innocently. "So long as _you_ do as instructed, she's absolutely safe."

His upper lip raised in a snarl, turning back slightly to that curly blonde head as she trembled and feeling his heart sink. He had to get her out of here, absolutely _had to_. Pride didn't matter here. Fighting for anyone but _her_ didn't fucking matter either. He could figure out every other element he had to work through as soon as he had her out and kept under protection in Heaven where Damien could never get to her. "What can I trade for her to go home?" he asked, eyes flickering back up and remaining steadily locked in Damien's.

Damien rolled his eyes in amusement, clicking his tongue lightly and shaking his head. "Little mouse, I don't think you quite understand. You're doing what I say. _Regardless_ of the outcome. Because no matter what, if you decide _not to_ … you're gonna watch her little neck get snapped." Kyle's entire chest seized, bringing her in as closely as he could in his restrained position, jaw shaking.

"You can't," he whispered.

"You survived a lot while down here, I guarantee she _won't_ if you don't make the choice to keep her safe," he challenged with a smug smile.

Kyle gulped, "You realize that you have all of Heaven against you. That they're going to be coming to rescue _both_ of us."

"And what a _fine_ job they did of that already," he hissed. "Got there _after_ I slashed up your dear parents and already had your little runt." He paused, Kyle flinching a bit at the mention of his parents and he chuckled. "Oh, you would've _loved_ seeing your mother and father trying to protect her," he cooed. "They tried so _damn_ hard." Kyle's eyes slid shut, sniffling and trying to focus on Kat's hands still needing him to remain steady. This could all come later. He had to strike a deal of some kind. He glanced back up, jerking as he approached them. He tried moving Kat backwards, stopped with a hand in his hair as the demon knelt down in front of him. Damien leaned in closer and grinned, "And besides. Don't you want her to see what you really are? What I _made you_?"

He shook his head, eyes shining with petrified tears. "Don't do this. She doesn't deserve this."

"No, but _you do_. Honestly you should be _thankful_ she's around as a bargaining chip. My original plan had you barely kept alive," he cocked his brow.

Kyle's jaw shook, "Then do _that_! Goddammit I'm willing to fucking compromise!"

Damien snorted, eye picking up its glow once more and Kyle tensing for whatever was coming next. He looked behind him at movement, Kat slowly slipping upwards out of his grasp as she desperately clutched at his shirt. He tried grabbing her, brought down with a strong hand on his shoulder. "There, there," Damien cooed, grabbing around Kyle's face and making him watch as Kat was genially set onto the ground a few feet away before turning his attention back forward. "That _is_ the compromise," he informed him. "You behave and she gets treated with care. You fucking step out of line and that goes away."

Kyle growled, looking back over at Kat slowly patting the ground, eyes full and round of disbelief at what'd just happened. Did _she_ make it happen? And if so, how? Kyle gulped at the loss on her face, trying to figure out where the fuck to even _start_ explaining all of this to a three-year-old, how he was going to reassure her when he himself had no goddamn idea how this all was going to turn out. Damien watched the bobbing of his throat, the quickened rises and falls of his lungs, unable to help the smoldering stare of his gaze. There was so much happening at once, and he had Kyle already backed into a corner begging for mercy. Not for himself, no. That would come later. But this was a delicious foundation to build upon, seeing true _helplessness_ once again and relishing in every ounce leaking from the dad's tremoring form.

Kyle finally shifted his gaze back into Damien's, flinching at the far-too-close proximity. "Why am I down here?" he finally braved the question that he desperately didn't want an answer to, but knew it was inevitable nonetheless.

Damien smirked, thumb running along his narrow jawline. "Why do you think?" he purred.

Kyle's stomach lurched, claws dancing across his skin and leaving pained pink marks in their wake. "You _do_ realize how _lucky_ you are that you're even alive right now, right?" he snapped. "You do this and you fucking won't get a _third_ chance."

He rolled his eyes, "Oh, are we already straight back to how McCormick is going to rescue you? Figured you'd wait a little while before regressing back to day one."

"For one, it's _Broflovski_ -McCormick," he said snidely. "For another, you know as fucking well as I do that you're fucking with the wrong people!"

Kat sniffled in the background, overwhelmed and lost at such enragement in her dad's voice that she'd never heard before. "Daddy, I wanna _go_ ," she pleaded, sitting on the ground and staring at her legs exhaustedly.

Kyle's furious expression dropped, glancing towards her and gulping, brought back around with those damning claws. Damien leaned down in his face and grinned. "And _you_ know as well as I do that so long as _she's_ on the line, you _or_ your shithead _husband_ aren't able to do a single. Fucking. _Thing_ ," he hissed. He pulled back, face dropping back casually. "Now. Gragor will take _excellent_ care of her, won't you?" he called off into the distance, Kyle turning to see the demon he so loathed leaning against the cave, black eyes staring daggers at the compromised man.

He gritted his teeth, "Like fucking _hell_ he's watching her!" he spat.

Damien smirked, "You'd rather she be left here all alone? She a good swimmer?" he jerked his head towards the pond. "Or how do you think she'd hold up if she caught a stray demon's attention?"

"I'm not fucking leaving her," he seethed.

"Oh, you _are_ ," he challenged, shoving him down onto his back and hovering overtop of him, hand clamping around his throat. Kat let out another dismayed cry, Kyle groaning as Damien moved his palm, bearing his weight down on his collarbone. "We have an errand to run. So I'd suggest you tell the runt goodbye and we be on our way. Before I decide she's just taking up space."

Kyle looked up at him, chest heaving under his hold. Damien wouldn't let him get her out, he'd lose every ounce of leverage he held over both himself and Kenny. He'd have to figure out something _else_ , something to keep her as safe as he could possibly manage while he was being dragged around… He paused. Aside from him and Kenny, there was _one_ other creature that would tear apart anything that posed a threat towards her, wouldn't leave her side for an instant. And he could get him to her, _if_ he could get Damien to compromise.

"If you let _me_ choose who watches her, and Gragor is still watching but keeps his fucking distance, I'll go where-the-fuck-ever. No arguments," he offered.

Damien licked over his fangs with a grin. He was waiting for this; he _knew_ Kyle would want more than the monster he'd beheaded watching over his child. "Depends on _who_ , little one. You know it can't be McCormick," he purred, gripping his chin again and turning his head. Kyle shuddered, feeling the promise of what was to come in his foreboding grasp.

Kyle heaved a deep breath. He figured. It'd give Kyle far too much of an advantage if Kenny was down here fighting for both of them. And he couldn't get Kenny to Hell without leaving Kat by herself with Gragor, which was strictly out of the question. "Valefor-" he paused. He needed someone else, too. Someone who'd talk her through this, someone she could communicate with that wasn't _just_ the dog. Someone who'd done the same goddamn thing for him five years prior. "And Pip," he finished, looking back at him firmly.

"Hmm," he mused, flicking Kyle's chin in thought. "Don't know about that one."

He gritted his teeth, "Pip is fucking mortal, he can't fucking do anything but talk to her! And Val won't fucking attack anyone unless they're coming after her!"

Damien placed a finger on his chin, forcing him to stay directed towards him. "If I allow this arrangement, allow you to offer comforts that otherwise I'd be opposed to… Would I have your _absolute_ compliance?"

Kyle gulped but nodded, "Yes."

"No matter _what_ I ask of you?" he grinned maliciously, hand tracing down and hitting his claw wounds, digging back into the tears and watching him arch in agony with a pained cry. "No matter how _awful_ for you?" he pressed, claws pressing deeper into the gashes.

Kyle gasped, blinking off tears and his head falling to the side, watching Kat as she shifted uneasily, torn between running up and staying back yet again after Damien's warning towards her. Her face was wrought with despair and terror, confusion and misery; all the things Kyle couldn't fucking protect her from. He'd have to do what he could, no matter how goddamn small at this point. He gave another brisk nod, "Yes!"

He flinched violently as the claws retracted, Damien looking up and over at his minion. "Gragor," he gestured, watching the stocky creature make his way forward, Kat finally taking notice of him the first time and letting out a terrified scream, trying to scramble back up towards her dad.

"Kat, it'll be all right!" Kyle promised, yelping as he was ripped back upright against Damien, watching as Gragor bent down and picked her up with a single paw. She looked at the appendage with a dropped jaw as she was shifted to be clutched in his scaled arm, every ounce of her perception seeming to shatter at once. These were the types of things her fathers told her weren't real, the stories they read to her at bedtime always finished with a promise that the mythical monsters weren't lurking and waiting for her. Given, Kenny had a tendency to tease that if they were, he'd save both her and her dad with a sword, Kyle always smacking him with one of her pillows and rolling his eyes when he made such a claim. All she wanted now was for that promise to come to fruition. Kat gulped, poking the hardened, golden flesh and tremoring. This was just so _wrong_.

"All right, here's the deal," Damien leaned down and husked into his ear, Kyle cringing at his breath beating against him. "I'll let you out of your chains to summon them. You're _not_ to heal your wound. And you're not to go for me _or_ Gragor. You make one move towards either one of us, he snaps her in half without question. Understand, my mouse?"

"Yes," he muttered bitterly.

"Good boy," he praised, snagging the cuffs and ripping them off his wrists with ease, backing away and watching him fighting to keep himself from breaking forward and doing just what he'd advised against.

Kyle rubbed his left wrist, mind flittering over his required words. He'd used his summon only a handful of times since getting back home, Valefor having an awful tendency to jump their fence and hunt down goddamn squirrels. He placed his hand on the ground, left eye glowing an odd hue of brown with the meshing colors fighting against one another. A deep breath flowed through him, digging his fingers down firmly and trying to not focus on Kat begging for him to get her out of Gragor's hold. " _Adduc eos ad me; adduc Valefor et Pip per latus meum."_

The group watched as Kyle slowly got to his feet, a portal appearing at the dictation of his concentrated stare. Kat blinked, baffled as she seemed to catch light beaming from her dad's eye, the gaping vortex at his feet appearing to be coming from him. "Daddy?" she whimpered, stopping as figures began emerging from the hole, gasping at a winged blonde man and Valefor popping out of the ground and landing in a heap at Kyle's feet.

The man groaned, shaking his head and looking up at his summoner, blinking in shock. "Kyle?" he asked.

"Pip, Pip, I'm so sorry," he said hurriedly, reaching down and helping him onto his feet, holding his hands desperately. "Please, I need your help!" he begged.

"O-of course," he said in bewilderment. "With wh-" he paused, seeing the devil lingering behind Kyle, his heart dropping. "Oh dear," he murmured, hand coming up over his mouth in worry as he glanced around the far-too-familiar surroundings. His eyes landed on the bleeding mess of Kyle's side, chest clenching at the acquainted sight of that dark merlot hue.

Valefor shook off his surprise and looked up at Kyle, hitting his leg with his paw for attention. His nose wriggled a bit and his ears perked, catching a very particular scent and whipping his head around, seeing Kat terrified and watching from Gragor's grip. His fangs bared and he snarled, leaping forward and Kyle gasped, reaching down and snagging the nape of his neck. "Valefor, NO!" he ordered, holding back the barking, infuriated hellhound.

Damien smirked, crossing his arms and watching the show amusedly. "Remember how you would praise him for protecting you?" he cooed.

Kyle looked back at him with a scowl before he turned his attention back to Pip. "Pip, please, I need you to watch Kat," he pleaded, wrangling Valefor back and lifting his front half up against his chest to keep him steady. "I don't trust her with anyone down here, you and Val have to keep her safe!"

Pip's eyes widened, looking over towards the squirming toddler trying to get to her father and dog. "Of course!" he agreed, nodding frantically.

Kyle shifted the dog in his grip and grabbed his muzzle in one hand, forcing his attention on him. "NO," he repeated. Valefor whined, trying to jerk down to get to Kat and Kyle shook him a bit. "Do _not_ attack him," he repeated. "Not unless he fucking hurts her. Do you understand?!" he demanded. Bright red eyes locked in his and Val's urgency simmered at his authoritative tone, ears drooping. Kyle put his forehead down against his dog's. "Keep her safe," he whispered. "Okay?" A gentle tongue hit the bottom of his chin and he nodded, "Good dog," he praised, putting him down on the ground and looking towards Gragor. "Now put her down!" he shouted.

Damien snorted, "I think you're forgetting one very important step in this process, little one. She's not out until you're back _under control_ ," he sneered. Kyle looked over at him, glaring at a finger folding for him to follow. He swallowed his pride, taking another look at Kat to push him through it as he silently made his way over to Damien, wincing from the pulsing wound on his side. Pip watched after him brokenheartedly, his hand resting on Valefor's head to keep his shaking form from bursting forward to get Kyle and Kat both out of potential harm.

"Daddy hel- help!" Kat begged.

Kyle looked at her and bit his lip, yelping at a hand gripping his arm and tearing him forward, feeling that metallic clang snapping down around his wrist yet again. "And I'm even being _kind_ ," Damien purred, grabbing his other arm and latching it in front of him. "Not even behind your back. Because I _trust_ you to keep our arrangement," he reached up, petting through Kyle's hair and relishing in the raging tremors wracking through him. "Put her down, Gragor," he called out casually, shoving Kyle back a few steps.

As soon as Kat's feet hit the ground she ran towards Kyle and clasped around his leg, shaking the fabric of his slacks desperately. "Daddy, I w-wanna go home," she pleaded.

Kyle glanced at Damien suspiciously who gave him a smug grin and a shrug. He'd won this round and he damn well knew it. Kyle bent down in front of her and grasped her tiny hands. "I know, I know," he croaked. "I can't get you home right now."

"Why?!" she emphasized.

"I… I-I…" he looked back at Damien's beaming gaze and gulped under the intensity. "I just can't," he said quietly. "Look, Val is gonna keep you safe. And Pip will, too," he promised, turning her head a bit to see him as he watched the family brokenly. "Pip was the one watching Val, and he helped me so much a few years ago," he pressed. "They're gonna protect you, okay?" She eyed the strange creature across from them suspiciously, Kyle gulping. "He's an angel," he informed her. "See his wings?"

She nodded, "W-what's a… t-that?" she frowned.

He gripped her hands tighter, Kat looking back at him and he smiled sadly. "Angels are the _best_ people," he told her. "They… they protect us and keep bad things away… They love us. You and me? They wanna take care of _both of us_. And for now, Pip will take care of you, just trust me."

She stared at him, blues shining and lip wobbling in such confusion it broke Kyle's heart. "I wanna go home," she repeated.

His shoulders sank, reaching up and over her with his bound wrists and pulling her against his chest. "I know," he whispered into her ear through her thick curls. "Papa's gonna get you out, okay? He's gonna get us out of here and we'll all go home together, okay?"

"Where is- is he?" she begged, clutching at him and sniffling against him.

"He's getting help," he promised. "It may take a little while. But he's gonna save us, okay? He will as fast as he can." Kat whined, pressing her head harder against him and he held onto her tighter, eyes scrunching shut and trying to will this all away, just get them back home arguing about her needing to go to bed and Kenny encouraging him to let her stay up for _just one more_ cartoon with him. Anything that wasn't this nightmare.

"All right, little mouse, get up," Damien said with a stifled yawn. "Your day's only just begun."

Kyle slumped a bit, unwillingly pulling away from her a bit, biting his lip sharply as she tried keeping him close. "Kat… Kat, Hon… I-I gotta go," he said.

 _"No!"_ she pleaded, burrowing in closer against his chest. This was too stressful; she couldn't have her dad just _walking away from her_ right now.

His eyes burned and he kissed her head, "I'll be back as soon as I can, okay?" he assured her, pulling back and off from around her and raising her chin up to get her looking at him. "You're going to be fine," he said firmly. "You're tough, right?" She sniffled and nodded, recalling the common question they asked while she would playfully punch into their palms. "Then be _super_ tough for me and Papa. We're gonna figure it out, but you gotta help us, all right?"

She wiped at her eyes and nodded again. "K-kay," she whispered. Kyle leaned her forward and pressed his lips against her forehead.

"Atta girl," he whispered, squeezing her arms reassuringly. "Go to Val. Don't _ever_ leave him or Pip and go off alone, understand?" She looked at him woefully, but gave him yet another nod, letting him turn her a bit and press her forward. She walked over to Valefor at his dictation with a bowed head, Kyle watching her tearfully and shooting Pip a helpless glance.

Pip smiled meekly, "I'll explain what I can," he promised.

"Thanks," he whispered before yelling at a hand ripping through his hair and pulling him back onto his feet, Damien forcefully shoving him back and leading him away from his daughter. He hissed, looking back over his shoulder as he was escorted off to see her reaching Valefor and hugging his leg, watching after Kyle with tears streaming down her face.

Damien chuckled, shaking him a bit as he lead him onwards around the cave. " _So touching_ ," he drawled. "Didn't take you for such the mawkish father, little one."

Kyle looked from Kat as she faded out of his sight behind the cave's walls back over his other shoulder to him with narrowed eyes. "Shows a lot about your understanding of any kind of fucking decency. Since you don't care about anything that you don't think fucking _belongs_ to you," he hissed.

"Hm," he grinned, wrapping his arm around Kyle's forearms, pressing them against his chest. "So you think I care for you, then?"

"You're _disgusting_ ," he spat, wincing as Damien squeezed around him. He hissed at another throb in his wound, glancing down at the stain collected around his hip and taking a shaking breath. "Where the fuck are you taking me?" he demanded. He figured he'd be going through a fucking portal to intersect Kenny in Heaven by now, unable to understand why Damien was simply walking him through barren lands towards a field of broken trees.

"Well. I was being kind," he said, picking up the pace and forcing him forward into the forest. "I was making sure your daughter didn't see this."

His throat clenched, pupils shrinking as he was pushed along. 'He fucking can't,' he thought with a silent whimper. ' _Oh god, he **can't**._ "

Damien felt the rigidity spanning his back and chuckled. "Oh, little mouse, not that," he purred. Kyle couldn't help a relieved exhale, cringing as he was shoved face-first against the forefront tree they came to. His eyes widened as a hand on his shoulder kept him planted, watching over his shoulder as Damien looked him up and down with a forked tongue swiping over his lips. "At least… _not yet_ ,' he smirked, Kyle's jaw trembling. "But no, we _do_ however, need to send a message. And what better way to do that than _showing it_?"

"W-what are you-" he stopped at claws brandishing in front of his face, the tips trailing down his torso until landing right back in his hip gash. He screamed as they pressed in deep, his body bending over into the trunk and Damien keeping him up with a hand in his hair.

"You think that moron of yours is going to get anyone out?" he demanded, twisting his hand and watching his legs buckle as he shrieked in pain. He ripped the offending fingers out and snagged his chin, wiping blood along his cheek and watching it trail down his neck, seeing tears beading his eyes and smiling fondly at the wave of nostalgia breaking over him. His free hand trailed around and under his shirt, stroking over the small of his spine with doting fingers. Kyle made a sound of disgust and gritted his teeth in fury. Damien waited a few patient beats, feeling him swaying on the tightrope of keeping himself or his daughter safe and his lips curled hungrily. He reared his hand back just a tad, jerking forward violently and stabbing into his spine, Kyle's mouth dropping and eyes glossing over with anguish, only able to squeak out his scream. Damien pulled out and let Kyle collapse onto the ground as his legs lost function, torso trembling as he bled onto the ashen ground. Damien smiled, licking a sample of blood from his fingertip and humming. " _We'll fucking see about that."_


	10. And the Spirit Shall Return

" **And fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell." -** _ **Matthew 10:28**_

With air forcefully slapping down against his eyes, each press of Raphael's wings boosting them further into the atmosphere, Kenny couldn't keep a single goddamn thought straight. His fingers clenched desperately in the archangel's tunic, only vaguely hearing him and Gabriel trying to give him some words of assurance that the problem would be resolved. He just couldn't believe he'd let it happen, couldn't believe that both he and Kyle could have _missed_ such an obvious end to the standoff. But he supposed it couldn't surprise him too much; there was too much happening at once. Kyle's emotions were all over the place from his parents and the situation staring him down, and Kenny had been preoccupied with trying to keep himself in check and not blow up the fucking house. Neither of them had been in the proper state for catching his damn gaping loopholes, and Kenny had only once in his life felt so foolish for letting something so consequential sneak by under his radar.

He snarled to himself. Damien seemed to be the fucking expert at that: slipping under the chaos he created and walking out with what he wanted. The scowl fell, eyes glossing over with worry. Apparently all he'd wanted was Kyle, but for _what_?

Another war against Heaven? Just merely as a revenge for how Kyle had decimated his prior intentions? Kenny gulped, knowing the very real possibility that there was more lingering beneath the surface. If this was merely a plot to take Kyle away from him and just keep him as a fucking _prize_ , then Damien would have no use for taking Kat. He'd no doubt have a way to keep Kyle under wraps without her if that was the only goal. There had to be something more, something that Damien was using Kat as leverage for. He bit his lip sharply. Then again, he wasn't sure which of those options were more horrific, unable to comprehend just what the hell was worming its way through the antichrist's mind.

He shuddered, knowing well enough that Kyle was already on his way to learning whatever was in store for him. The terror of the unknown consequences had been spelled plainly on both his and Kat's faces as they dropped down into Damien's vortex; Kat unsure of what was happening in the slightest, and Kyle _far_ too aware of the possibilities.

"Hang on, Ken," Raphael instructed, Kenny buckling down and preparing himself as a large break through a cloud slammed into him, holding his breath and feeling water splashing against his face as they soared through. The angels hurriedly got him through the vapored pool, knowing his lungs could only take so much. They surged above the cloud, the rush of atmospheric change smashing against Kenny's body as they began the journey between the planes. It was a surreal feeling, breaking through the realms, the little momentary hindrance of Purgatory's existence between Earth and the threshold of Heaven a chilling experience to pass through. He shook his head as they broke out of its hold, the plane trying to take hold of his living soul and drag him back down, Gabriel coming to Raphael's aid and assisting him in keeping Kenny held high. But no time for concerning himself with messing up the natural order as he had for so long, there was far too much at stake for existential questioning to reign in his vexed mind.

Teeth gritted, Kenny clutched harder around the angels' sleeves, watching with narrowed eyes as they sped towards a cloud silhouetted with a golden ethereal light. He shut his eyes once more as they burst upwards through the dense solution, biting his lip and scrunching his nose as cooled droplets tried to sneak into his sinuses. He gasped down a mouthful of purified air as they breeched the surface, the group caught in the glow clasping around them, lighting them aflame in the warm tones. Raphael and Gabriel set him down on the reformed, firmed cloud, they and Michael following him as he broke out into an automatic sprint towards Peter's gate.

The old man quickly made work to open the doors, watching the speeding man with worry etched into wrinkled features. Rumors spread fast in Paradise, everyone already well aware that the archangel and the only demon permitted to enter the kingdom had once again been targeted. Angels, both veterans of the war and those who came only after the triumph, were more than knowledgeable about the boys who'd given their all for the cause, who'd become the vessels that exceeded the expectations of life and death. They were respected, revered enough that those lingering outside the gates saw Kenny gunning for the city and stood out of the way so he'd have a clear, straight path to God's domain.

Kenny's foot crossed the threshold, not doing more than nodding at St. Peter as he tried to get through. His eyes widened as a sudden agony tore through his back, Ken stumbling with a scream as the base of his wings tore through his shoulder blades and dress shirt. "WHAT THE FUCK!" he screeched, reaching behind him and grabbing the top of a feathered appendage as it unfurled to its full form. Blood streamed in ribbons down the typically pristine white, Kenny all at once nauseated and dizzy with the unexpected assault.

"You're still alive!" Michael reminded him, rushing up and helping him stand up straight. "Your mortal body isn't prepared for Heavenly afflictions."

"Fuckin'…" he sneered, shaking himself and taking back off down the way, wings flapping as he grunted in pain, lifting off the ground and speeding to his destination. That didn't matter. His pain _didn't fucking matter_. He could worry about that _much_ later, when he had Kyle and Kat up in Heaven and protected so he could finally do as he promised to do and take Damien's head for his own. His three companions caught up beside them, all ready to swoop and catch Kenny should his injury lead to a fall. But mirrored irises told a different story, one that read that the pain was redirecting into fury, that Kenny once more had his goal, and nothing so trivial as a torn back was going to stop him from getting what he damn well needed.

They sped through the city of Paradise, zooming around glittering structures looming higher against the cleared sky and dazzling against the curtained sun's gentle touch, hidden in a colored mist to keep from obtrusive, blinding possibilities. Kenny's hand hit the glassed side of a building, propelling him forward faster, eye tracing straight down the pathway to the grandiose structure waiting for him, to his and Kyle's home away from home. It was the home of himself and his brothers, and their Father. A _privilege_ to inhibit the building, he'd been told time and again. A _sin_ to defile it and besmirch all the holy grandeur it stood for, something that Kenny and Kyle, when their trips were more frequent, took as a challenge.

He shook his head, zooming up to the front stairwell and swooping upwards to follow their path. No time for thinking about that. Only one thing was allowed to be at the forefront of his mind. He could only focus on what needed done, not lose himself. Not again. Ignoring the sparse guards standing at attention and watching him sympathetically, he passed over the marbled steps and hit the ground with his shoes, sliding to a stop before breaking right back into a sprint down the side hall towards his goal.

His wings folded back, bloodied feathers snapping against the air as his back muscles screamed for him to give them the medical attention they so needed. He pressed onwards, making way towards the large, ornately patterned door waiting down the way. "Open the damn thing!" he snapped at the soldiers watching him in astonishment. They shook themselves into attention, grabbing both sides of the door and ripping them open just in time for the four of them to quickly make way through the threshold, finding the remaining six of their group looking over at him guiltily.

Kenny kept running towards them, eyes landing on the furred creature standing on the table with His paws clasped, looking at him with heavy, burdened eyes. Ken slid to a stop in front of Him, shoving Uriel over in the process with a loud yelp. "WHAT HAPPENED TO KEEPING HER SAFE?!" he demanded, not willing to deal with semantics. "YOU FUCKING PROMISED US!"

God cringed, clearing His throat. "Kenneth…" He started gently, looking over as Uriel struggled onto his feet, rubbing his head through thick blonde curls and glaring a bit at the new arrival. "He hid until it was too late," He explained.

Kenny narrowed his eyes, flinching at a hand on his back, Raphael staring down at his wounds and eyes bursting with a hazel glow. Ken winced as his skin pieced itself back together around his wings, muscles properly forming against the new cartilage and letting them become one with him as he was so accustomed to. Kenny shuddered, Raphael's healing not nearly as warmed and numbing as Kyle's, but good enough to silence the sharp throbbing at the very least as his rampage pressed forward. "How did he hide?! He's fucking _Damien_ , he can't sneak under a fucking radar!"

"He kept his power dormant throughout his recovery," Jegudiel explained. "Using it made him far too weak. He remained as such until he was already on Earth. By the time the three of them got there… it was too late," he said guiltily.

"We tried," Michael said quietly, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Kenny, we got there the _moment_ God sensed his presence… I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologize to _me_ , apologize to Kyle and our fucking daughter!" he hissed, shrugging off his palm. He looked at God and his lip wobbled. "You _promised_."

"I know," He agreed, sinking a bit. "I have told you before, though, Kenneth: I can't know _everything_ at once. There was always a part of me watching for him, but if he didn't reveal himself, then there was little else I could do. He knows I can only find him if he's exuding _some_ form of power that'll rise above everyone else's presence. He used that to his advantage."

Kenny stared at Him in silence for a few moments before snarling, scratching at his hair rapidly. "FUCK!" he screamed. "Fuck he has _both_ of them; what do I do?!"

"We lead an assault," Selaphiel suggested firmly. "Full on mission against Damien. Assassination and rescuing the two of them and nothing more, nothing less."

"That's stupid," Uriel rolled his eyes. "Damien has both Kyle _and_ the child and you _know_ he'd use them as shields or what-have-you. Not to mention the fact that he's in Hell, and he would be at full power down there."

Gabriel leaned against the table, biting his lip, "Do you think he's back to full power? He may still be weakened from his injuries, just well enough to harm mortals."

"Doesn't matter either way," Michael reminded them. "Unless we can get all of Heaven's forces down there, it'd be the eight of us versus countless legions of demons. We'd be outnumbered in no time at all. Damien's strength would only matter by means of what he does to Kyle and Katlyn."

Kenny leaned his head back and groaned, putting his hands over his eyes. "Okay, okay. What about a stealth thing?" he asked, looking back down at the group of them. "We sneak down there, take out any demons we happen to come across, but just quietly make our way through, get Ky and Kat, and get out. Then I go back, take Damien's fucking head and piss on his corpse, and that's the end of it."

Barachiel winced a bit, dark eyes watching the constant tension ranging through his muscles. "I would think Damien would make it so he'd _know_ if any heavenly force came into the realm."

"Exactly. Heaven's servants are easily detected and snuffed out," Jesus said quietly. "Look at what happened to Nathaneal. Damien knew of him and just waited until he could be exploited before doing away with him. I'm willing to bet _most_ demons can sniff out one of our own."

Kenny crossed his arms, tapping his foot and looking down with a furrowed brow. "Do you think the senses would overlap?"

"Whaddya mean?" Selaphiel leaned on the table, putting his chin in his palm.

"I mean, if they can't sort 'em out, then I'm willing to be most of them can sense Kyle right now. And if he's overwhelmin' how well they can sense _others_ , then maybe there's a chance we can get down there quick enough while they're thrown off and get 'em out?"

Jegudiel nodded slowly, "Perhaps. And with his mixed blood, he'd be creating somewhat of a confusion regardless."

"Don't bet on that," God warned. "I'm more than sure word of what Kyle became spread within the realm after the war. They probably all know of the mixture he is… and unfortunately many are going to be unhappy with that. He may have demons coming at him for his betrayal to their kind."

Kenny gnawed on his lip, shifting uncomfortably. "No. Because Damien's gonna make it clear no one gets to touch him without him saying it's okay," he murmured. "But yeah… there may be some lingering around."

Uriel rubbed his temple and nodded, "He's probably a folklore freakshow at this point." Kenny shot him a warning glare and he held up his hand. "I'm not saying to _us_ he's a freakshow. I mean to the demons. _Especially_ since he's part of their second-in-line. Which of Damien's followers _wouldn't_ want to see just who it was that defied him and helped bring them down?"

"But what about Kat?" Raphael asked. "What does Damien want with her?"

"Something to use against Kyle and me," Ken shrugged a bit, shoulders drooping guiltily. "Probably more Kyle. Hate to fucking admit it, but the fucktard isn't stupid. He knows neither of us would let her be hurt." He sighed, unable to even _imagine_ how absolutely terrified Kat had to be. She was nervous enough around animals that weren't Valefor; walking into a realm of hideous creatures that were daunting to even himself and Kyle couldn't be settling well on her young mind.

God nodded, "Precisely. So the goal needs to be getting Katlyn out of harm's way. Then you and Kyle can figure something out to bring him down once and for all."

"Shoulda done that five fuckin' years ago," he grumbled, hiding his eyes in his palm and sniffling lightly. He could've ended this, he _thought he did_ before Damien had made his last grab for Kyle. And at that point it was just too late for Kenny to finish him off, far more preoccupied with making sure that Kyle would be coming home with him and not torn away back to Hell. "Fucking Christ, Kyle's probably scared out of his fucking mind."

Selaphiel shrugged meekly, "Maybe. But… he's going to be much more focused on keeping Kat safe than anything else."

"That's what I'm fucking afraid of," Kenny murmured. He wasn't stupid, he knew _damn well_ that's what would happen. And Kenny knew Kyle well enough to know he'd do damn well anything to keep her or Ken safe, no matter the cost. Just as he would for either of them. He raised his glassed eyes and swept his nerve-wracked expression around the group. "So… any _other_ ideas? Is there a spell or something? Can we figure somethin' out and tell Kyle to do something from his end?"

Jesus nodded slowly, "If we figure something out, we can communicate it to him, yes. He belongs up here, so he has the link to God for such a connection," he gestured towards his father. "The question is, what can we do that'll keep both of them safe from Damien figuring it out and taking it out on one of them?"

Kenny leaned his head back, staring at the silver and blue ceiling and gulping, "I don't know," he sighed. He froze as a notion burrowed itself into his mind, looking back at them all with wide eyes. "Is he going to turn Kat, too?" he whispered.

The angels and Jesus looked at each other, the possibility bearing down on the lot of them. God cleared His throat and shook His head firmly. "No. She's much too young. He would not be able to infect her without killing her, and he knows it. If she's gone, then Kyle has no reason to hold back from incapacitating him and getting you to finish him off. My assumption is she's going to be kept safe so long as…" He trailed off a bit, looking down in guilt once more.

"So long as Kyle does what he says," he murmured, a shudder racking down his spine. "Fuck. W-we gotta get her out. Who knows what he'll make Ky do…" He clutched around his arms, rubbing them vigorously and trembling. Well, as they all thought at once, they knew of _one_ thing that Damien would more than happily make Kyle do.

Raphael put a comforting hand on Kenny's shoulder, "We'll figure this out, Ken," he said gently. "And Kyle's even stronger than he was five years ago, and Damien is weaker. Maybe he can figure something out."

"Not if he's in those chains," Michael muttered. "Then he's nearly helpless."

"He's not _helpless_ ," Kenny snarled. "And he can figure it out. He can _always_ figure something out; you all know that as well as I do by now."

Michael frowned, "Yes, we know. But with Damien hol-"

"Sirs!" a call interjected from the doorway, the group quickly turning their head to a soldier standing in the threshold. His eyes drifted over to Kenny. "Archangel Kenneth, It's Damien, he has Kyle!"

Kenny's face fell. "We fucking know. We're figurin' out what t'-"

He shook his head briskly, "No, I mean he has him at Peter's gate!" he pointed down the hall.

The group stiffened, before pivoting, making way to dash. "Hold it!" God demanded, the lot of them halting. Kenny bared his teeth a bit at the interruption before God's eyes picked up a golden glow, the lot of them staring before being swept down unexpectedly with small yelps into a blanket of warming white and rushing along with a soft breeze. The ten of them braced themselves as they headed through the portal, Kenny somewhat amazed at the stark contrast between the ebbing blackness of Kyle's own. He couldn't help the heavy thud of his heart. Then again, Kyle was considered fallen from grace, most everything about him was going to linger quietly within darkness. He blinked off sparse tears, wings snapping back as they sped towards a beaming light, an all-too-familiar hue like the end of Purgatory's tunnel.

They all gasped a bit as they sped out of the hole and landed in stumbles onto the clouded ground, looking up to see Peter staring at them from inside the gate in fright. Kenny turned his head, eyes widening at Damien grinning at him deviously, Kyle propped up against his leg, pulsing blood leaking from wounds scattered throughout his torso and back and rasping for breath. Kyle's eyes raised and met Kenny's, glazed over and fuzzy from the blood loss. He felt so nauseated, so fucking _tired_. He just wanted to heal, heal and figure things out, unable to understand why Damien was keeping him weakened when he already fucking _had_ what he wanted.

"You _fuck_!" Kenny snapped, turning his attention from Kyle to his captor.

"Isn't this _familiar_?" Damien cooed. "Well, for the most part at least. He's a little less human this time around, isn't he?"

"What did you _do_?!" he screeched, looking at Kyle's barely-coherent form and the pool of wine-shaded blood amalgamating beneath him. "Where's Kat?!"

Damien rolled his eyes, "Calm down, she's _fine_ ," he drawled. "Isn't she, mouse?" he asked, flicking Kyle's head.

Kyle coughed a bit, eyes still locked hazily on Kenny. "Val… and Pip are w-with her," he whispered. "She's o-okay." He shuddered at another pulse of blood spilling out of his hip wound and back, along with a few choice scratches Damien had placed on his chest and arms just barely nicking arteries to keep him subdued, but alive.

"I was _very_ generous and let him decide who watches her," Damien purred, playing with a curl and watching as Kenny seethed with rage. "So, I figured _before_ you end up doing something you'd regret, I'd be even _more_ generous and give you fair warning," he said. "The runt is safe if you keep your little goody-goody asses out of Hell. The _second_ one of you crosses in, I'll know, and her little neck gets broken. I have Gragor and a nice little succession line set up to do so if my rules are ignored. Are there any questions?" he cocked a smug brow.

Kenny's jaw trembled, the other heavenly forces standing at his side and staring down the antichrist. "What do you want with Kyle?" God demanded.

Damien looked down at Him and shrugged, petting through Kyle's hair. "What can I say? I _missed_ the little brat." He glanced at Kyle's bowed head and his shaking shoulders, feeling the fading consciousness tormenting the chained man. "And I have some big plans for him," he murmured, tightening his claws in his hair just to hear an airy yelp. Damien looked back over at Kenny and grinned at his devastated face. "Come now, McCormick. You've been through this before, it _must_ be easier the second time around."

Kenny bared his teeth, barely feeling Raphael and Michael both holding onto his shoulders. "You fucking _pussy_ ," he spat. "Fucking using a toddler and doin' _this shit_ to Kyle? Can't do _nothin'_ for yourself without cheatin' yer way there, can ya?!"

Damien chuckled, "Remember that I have not _only_ Gragor on standby with your child's life in the balance, but I once more control just how much pain _this one_ goes through," he yanked Kyle's hair. "Besides, little one already agreed to utter compliance to get the dog and the weakling down with the runt. Didn't you?" he purred. Kyle was silent and he pulled his hair again. "Answer me."

"Yes," he breathed out, getting dizzier by the moment.

Kenny watched Kyle's heaving chest and sniffled, shaking his head a bit in disbelief as tears welled across his eyes. "You piece of shit."

"Eh," he shrugged. "Call me what you like, what matters is I have what I want. And your little husband here is in a _lot_ of trouble for the shit he pulled," he said. "But, I'm in a _good mood_ for getting him back," he drawled. "Have a last word," he grinned, tightening his hand in Kyle's curls and throwing him forward with a pained scream. Kenny gasped before Kyle crashed into him, both of them toppling to the ground from the impact. Kenny scrambled up and held him, narrowing his eyes at his legs seeming to be nothing more than dead weight.

"Ky? Ky!" he shouted, putting a gentle hand on his cheek and getting pained green eyes once more opened on him. "Ky, can you move your legs?!"

"Not for now he can't," Damien answered blandly. "Little shit isn't moving around until I fucking let him."

"Christ," he whispered, hugging around Kyle's bound arms and kissing his neck.

Kyle turned his head slightly towards his, their cheeks pressed against one another and his labored breathing echoing in Kenny's eardrum. " _Get her out_ ," he whispered. Kenny went to look at him and he shook his head to stop him. "I'll figure out… my pa-part," he stammered, eyes slipping shut and head falling against Kenny's limply. "Just g-get Kat _out_ ," he begged.

Kenny sniffled, hugging him tighter and nodding, kissing him again. "I'll get you both out," he swore. "Just wait for me, okay? God can get in contact with you, we'll figure something out together, all right?" Kyle nodded back with heavy bobs, head slipping down against his shoulder and jaw trembling.

His eyes lazily swept upwards, catching the sympathetic gazes of God and Michael in his peripheral before landing on the red-streaked feathers on Kenny's back. His pupils shrunk a bit at the sight. " _Your wings…_ " he whispered.

"Don't worry about that," he said, kissing his cheek firmly. "Just keep strong, okay?" he begged.

Kyle nodded silently, taking a long breath of Kenny's scent before feeling that telltale pull on his body and whimpering. Kenny tried keeping a hold of him for just a moment longer before he flew out of his grip, landing in a crumpled, panting heap at Damien's feet outside the gate. Kenny watched helplessly as Damien reached down and snagged Kyle up into his arms, sneering possessively at the demon. Kyle breathed out in disgust, glaring down at his bound wrists resting against his stomach as Damien's arm supporting his back twisted to let his hand crawl up into his hair. Claws lightly scratched over his scalp, Damien looking at him with a smirk before back at Kenny. "Well. Have a _bit_ of hope, McCormick. Maybe I'll give you back the runt once I have this one broken down and as obedient he should be," he shook Kyle a little, Kyle closing his eyes and biting his lip.

Ken got back to his feet, feeling all eyes on him and his glare turned deadly as he honed in on the antichrist. "I _will_ finish what I started," he promised. "And I _won't_ be so fucking merciful this time."

Damien's lips curled into a grin, fangs beaming a bit in Heaven's light as he looked between the unseeing man in his arms and his infuriated husband. "Neither will I," he purred, eyes striking the match and the two of them sinking down into the void, Kyle managing only one petrified moment of a last glance as he was whisked off and away from Kenny yet again.

The angels, God, Jesus, and Peter stared at the sealed spot in silence, letting the weight of the situation fall onto them at once. They could feel the eyes of bystanders in the background and the horror rippling through Paradise at what'd just occurred. One of their saviors was backed against the wall, the other was being dragged down towards who _knew_ what. Kenny shut his eyes, body tremoring. He knew what. He knew _exactly_ what… or at least a part of it. But Damien's tone told him more than enough: Whatever _plans_ he mentioned weren't so simple as just keeping him locked away to keep. Something more sinister was lingering in the air, and Kenny didn't have the slightest clue as to how to stop it.

"…Shit," Selaphiel's voice finally broke through.

"What can we do now?" Gabriel asked, brow furrowing in thought. "If he has Kat so heavily endangered, how do we get to her?"

Kenny took a shaking breath, looking down at his arms at Kyle's spilt blood drying against his skin and clenching his fists. "We'll figure it out," he murmured. "For right now, I need to get back home for a minute."

Uriel cocked his brow, "Why?"

He bit his lip, staring back at the clouds and narrowing his gaze, nails digging into the flesh of his palms and an iridescence sparking across his eyes. "I need my fucking sword."


	11. Listen to your Fathers' Instructions

_" **Tell everyone who is discouraged, Be strong and don't be afraid! God is coming to your rescue…"**_ _ **-Isaiah 35:4**_

Not three months ago, Kat had had a nightmare. She couldn't recall exactly what it was, only remembering there were glowing eyes and a grating voice, long shadowed fingers crawling from her closet into her bedroom. She'd awoken in a panic, grabbed Lime from beside her, and clumsily ran to her fathers' room, sniffling all the way. Valefor, who always slept right in-between their rooms, had hopped up at her noise, trotting over to help her make it to her destination. She'd clutched onto his collar to keep her sleepy balance, whining and shoving their door open, calling for them.

She remembered Kyle waking up first with a start, Kenny not far behind and moving to shield Kyle from view as he groggily asked what was wrong. She'd just cried, the two of them guessing right off what had occurred, Kenny stumbling in the dark to pick her up and Kyle rushing off to the master bathroom with Val. Kat had been hysterical watching their shadowed forms seep into the darkness, thinking they wouldn't be able to come back out while Kenny tried to bounce her a bit to cool her down. Ken had sat down on the bed with her in his lap, brushing tangled curls out with his fingers and trying to get her to talk, while she was far too preoccupied watching the bathroom in anticipation. She could recall seeing a faint red light coming from the room twice intermittently before it died off for good, her heart pounding as the faucet began to run and the clear sound of frantic scrubbing echoed out of the doorway.

She'd hidden in Kenny's shirt, clutching her bear and him and not able to stop her confused sobbing. Valefor had rushed back out first, hopping with his front paws on the bed and nudging her with his nose, trying to pry her out of her hiding spot. Kyle followed not long after, rubbing himself down with a towel and sitting next to them on the bed, Kat automatically gasping in relief at his safe reappearance and reaching over to clutch at him as well. _"Hey, hey, hey,"_ Kenny had cooed. _"What's wrong, Kiddo? Bad dream?"_

She'd nodded, flinching as a tissue was pressed up under her nose, looking to see Kyle illuminated in the moonlight watching her with worry. _"Tell us what happened_ ," he'd urged, wiping off her face.

" _I-I don't know,_ " she'd croaked. _"Monster_."

She remembered seeing them glancing at each other, as though trying to decide just what to tell her before looking back down as they met their silent consensus. _"There's no such thing,"_ Kenny promised. _"And if there was, Val would tear 'em right up. Then me and Dad would beat 'em with a bat."_ She'd nodded, burying herself between their waists, trying to create a barrier around herself.

" _You wanna sleep in here?"_ Kyle had asked, petting her hair.

" _Uh h-huh."_ Kyle had moved to the far side of the bed, Kenny sighing through a yawn as he helped her clamber into the middle. She'd held on to Lime like her life depended on it as they rearranged pillows before slipping back under their covers and helping her get situated.

" _Ken, can you set the alarm a little earlier?_ " Kyle had requested, getting a half-awake grunt in response as Kat stared at their ceiling, the shadows of trees peeking from the split in the drapes looking far too daunting for her comfort. The bed had dipped and they all looked down, seeing Val cautiously climbing up, watching Kyle with care for any direction to get off the furniture before plopping down in the middle of their legs, his head resting beside Kat's feet and pressed against Kyle's calf.

" _You shit,"_ Kenny had snorted, reaching down and scratching his ear.

Kyle had shaken his head, _"Tonight_ _ **only**_ _, Val,_ " he'd warned with a yawn as he and Kenny slid to lie back down. Kat had grabbed their arms one at a time, guiding them over her to cage herself in and curling up into a ball. Her dads had watched her before obliging, moving in closer and holding gently around her, trying to get her sniffling to come to a stop.

" _Hey,"_ Kenny had whispered. _"Nothin's gonna get you. You got me and Dad and Slobber-boy right here_."

" _Why'd you mention yourself twice_?" Kyle had asked with a sheepish, sleepy grin, snorting as Kenny slapped his arm and getting a small, choked giggle out of Kat. He'd looked down and bumped his head against Kat's. _"Hey. You're tough. Anything would be scared to take you on."_

" _Right,_ " Ken had agreed through another yawn. _"You're my lil fighter. Just like your dad,"_ he'd poked Kyle's forehead, getting another small huff of a laugh out of him. _"Anythin' happens, I'm hiding behind the two of you_."

Kat had given another tiny twitter, snuggling down and clasping around Lime, her heartrate finally slowing and finding herself feeling safe enough to face the night again. She'd drifted back off before she knew it, pleasantly swaying in a dreamless sleep. She'd woken up to the feeling of warmth and comfort as sunlight just began cresting through their window, looking to see all three of the others passed out, still surrounding her and protecting her from the outside world. She'd loved that, feeling so secure, knowing that her fathers would get her away from anything that would be remotely scary to her.

So why weren't they _here_?

Valefor nudged her gently, tongue passing up over her arm as she clutched around him and sobbed, sinking to the ground and just overwhelmed with what was happening. She didn't know where she was. She didn't know who this ' _angel'_ beside her was, or _what_ the monster lingering and watching in the background was. She only knew that her dad seemed as scared as she was, and that just made her feel _worse_. If _he_ was scared, then something very _awful_ had to be happening, something that no one wanted to explain to her, wouldn't let her limited comprehension rest a bit with some answers.

She flinched as a soft hand touched her arm, looking up through bleared eyes to see Pip kneeling down beside her, watching her with nothing but pure sympathy over his face. "There there," he cooed. "It'll all be all right, Katlyn."

Kat gulped, looking into kind, dark eyes, remembering her dad _swearing_ that he was someone she could trust, someone that would take care of her and protect her. But the air of doubt was lingering, that lesson he and Kenny had drilled into her about never trusting a stranger without the two of them with her echoing loudly above his promises. "I want… want Daddy a-and Papa," she croaked.

Pip's heart sank, feeling revulsion swelling within him. A child. Damien had taken and threatened a _child_. He certainly couldn't put a dirty move like that past the antichrist, but it was sickening, _pathetic._ He shifted, sitting on the sides of his legs and watching her little lip trembling, the raw fear raging in dark blue eyes that wrenched his chest. "I know," he finally worked out, wings maneuvering behind him to sit comfortably. "But… they can't get to you right now. But they will," he promised. "They'll do anything to get you home."

Kat rubbed at her wet eyes with her arm, looking up at the only familiarity she had, meeting eyes with her dog and her jaw dropping slowly. Bright, beaming red stared back at her instead of that relieving, rich chestnut, the unusual hue sending her falling backwards, Pip quickly diving forward and catching under her head as she continued to stare at Valefor who looked lost at her sudden fear. "Val-for?" she whimpered. He cocked his head, leaning down and sniffing at her stomach, squinting in the slightest as a small, tremoring hand came up to touch over his brow bone. "Red…" she trailed off. This was too much. This was just _too much_.

Pip looked between the both of them, still holding her curly head up and gnawing on his lip. He had a hell of a choice to make here. How much was Kyle willing to let be known to his daughter? Pip knew well enough he'd tried to hide it from her, hide _everything_. But now, they were both trapped in the world that he'd spent so long building a wall around, trying to ignore its existence for her sake. Pip was no fool, everything was going to spill out to her one way or another, but he just didn't know how much Kyle wanted to be the one to sit her down and talk her through it, if Damien would _even give them that chance_. He didn't know how long it would be before something could be figured out, no doubt it'd all take longer than what Kyle's disguising spell lasted for. He'd promised he'd explain what he could, though, and Kyle seemed to accept that in the split second he had before he was torn up and away.

"Those are his real eyes," Pip started slowly, Kat looking at him and sniffling.

"Real?" she echoed.

He nodded, sitting her up with the three of them in a huddled little group, Gragor watching with dull eyes from the cave wall. "Valefor lived here before he and your dad found each other."

Kat looked around with heavy, wet blinks, taking in the rich, warm colors spanning the sky, the deadened earth beneath her and the rocky terrain splashed with scraggly trees lingering in the distance. "How… how come they're r-red?"

He scratched up through his hair, clearing his throat a bit. "He's not… from… Earth. He's from here. In… Hell," he winced.

Kat stared at him in bewilderment, "Where's that?"

"They haven't told you about Hell?" he raised his brow, blinking rapidly before remembering with a start Kyle's impromptu explanation of what he was. "Do you know where Heaven is? Or perhaps who God is?" he tried. Maybe they just stuck to Kyle's faith, Kenny and he opting out of the notion of Catholicism altogether and they were slowly building on the tales as she got older. She shook her head slowly and he bit his lip. They hadn't told her _anything_. And he wasn't entirely sure how the two of them would react to him giving her a theological lesson. The choices, however, were looking few and far between. He didn't exactly have enough imagination to come up with outlandish tales, not when he'd been dealing with the outer realms for so many years. "Oh dear," he murmured, rubbing his arm uncomfortably as she waited for further elaboration. "Heaven… is where good people go when they die. Hell is… where bad people go."

She looked around again, eyes widening. " _Die_?!"

"Not you, not you," he corrected immediately, shaking his hands in front of him. "You, your father, and Valefor are all alive, I promise."

"Then why… why are we _here_?" she insisted, head spinning. Kenny and Kyle had sat her down to tell her about death not long before, when her class' pet fish had floated to the top of the bowl. _"Like sleeping_ , _but you can't wake up,_ " they'd said. She'd understood the gist, Kenny pointing to her favorite movies at good characters who had died, explaining it as best as he could with Kyle for once letting him take the lead, just nodding along and answering questions directed towards him. But they never mentioned places anyone went, only the consequences, why the other characters were struck with such sadness or anger.

She remembered asking why no one was sad when a bad person died if death was so sad, why no tears were shed for the characters cloaked in the shadows. Why the end goal seemed to _be_ this distressing notion befalling the villain. Both of them had fallen silent for a few moments before Kyle had grasped her little hand and squeezed. _"Someone will always be sad, no matter how bad the person,"_ he'd told her. _"But, sometimes, a person is bad enough that others have a better life without them, but that doesn't happen often. Unless someone hurts you, and I mean_ really _hurts you, you should never hope for someone to die. It's a terrible thing to want, because you only get there through the worst of things happening to you. Very few people ever deserve that kind of hateful thinking. Do you understand?"_ She looked down as Valefor plopped down beside her, head resting on her tiny legs still marred with dried blood and looking at her with those _unknown_ eyes. She wondered if this was a dream, one that she couldn't wake from, if it was some form of death that even her fathers knew nothing about.

Pip clicked his teeth a bit, still considering her question with care, knowing he was walking a very fine line with just how much he would be revealing to a toddler, to an _innocent_. "The person who took you… he doesn't like your fathers very much," he winced. "He's… a very evil person."

The concept was foreign, Kat only knowing the term from cartoons and movies, where the 'evil' was never around at the very end, was always struck down by the heroes for a happily ever after. Where they cackled in dramatic fashion and wrung their hands and lightning struck in the background of long-winded speeches. "How… how come he- he doesn't like them?" She was no fool; she'd seen plenty of people who didn't like her parents. Her 'sorta-kinda-not-really-Uncle' Eric, as Kenny had introduced him, fought with her dad constantly in his few visits until Kenny would break them up and send Kyle off to cool down. Her papa had a running grudge with one of the other dads at her preschool, anytime she and Jamie were picked up at the same time met with the two of them glaring at one another and passing sharp quips before storming away with their children. Kenny had explained to her on the ride home once how Jamie's dad just didn't like him and her dad together, to just ignore him and to ignore Jamie if he ever fell into a similar way of thinking. But they were little things, tiny inconveniences that her fathers taught her was better to brush off than let get to them for more than a few minutes. Nothing like this. _Never_ had a fight with someone taken it to this extreme in her short life.

Pip looked at her with a sad gleam to his eye, Kat befuddled at the tone. "He's jealous of your papa. And…" he paused, looking for the right words, not sure of how to explain the deep-seated, mismatched power play Damien held so haughtily over Kyle, wanted to crush him with. "And your dad… he's been through this before," he whispered. "Damien, the evil man," he explained, "he took your dad to make your papa upset a few years ago. But your dad fought him, and he didn't care for that. So he wants to stop him from doing it again."

Kat blinked, hearing her papa's voice again. _"My lil fighter. Just like your dad."_ She sniffled, wiping at her eyes again and staring down at Valefor's head as he heaved a somewhat burdened sigh, still watching her. Like he knew; like he knew something was desperately _wrong_ and she wasn't getting the full story. "Where… where did he take… take Daddy?" she asked quietly, voice worn from exhaustion and crying.

Pip sighed, patting her arm genially. "I don't know. Probably to see your papa, to tell him not to try to rescue you or your dad will get hurt…" _'And you,_ ' he thought with a weighty heart, hating to spell out the truth but knowing in this situation, anything less would be ludicrous reasoning for not getting her out immediately. Kat looked at him again, lip trembling at the notion, remembering the pained, muffled scream and the blood she'd watched rushing out of her dad. The way that one of the men she thought was impenetrable, the one that was strong enough to lift Valefor up into his arms and carry with ease was thrown tens of feet away into the dirt like nothing.

From the attack that was _her fault_.

Pip continued to try to soothe her down as she coughed out another guilty sob. "Don't you worry, though," he said determinedly. "I know your fathers very well. Nothing will stop them, I promise. They're going to figure something out and get all four of you home and safe," he patted Valefor's head a bit, the dog giving him a brisk tail wag before his focus fell back where it belonged.

She paused, cocking her head at the number. "Where's Papa?"

"In Heaven," he held up his hand as her eyes widened again. "Not dead." He cleared his throat, _'or if he is, perhaps you don't need to know that,'_ he thought. "He has friends in Heaven, both of them do. They're probably _all_ going to come down and rescue you both," he forced a smile across his face, wondering if filling her with false promises would be something Kyle would have disdain for. He highly doubted he'd be too distraught with his daughter having hope, though. Unfortunately, it was probably far more hope than he himself would be having at this moment.

Kat nodded slowly, hearing her dad's promises for her papa to get them both out. But then again, she was also promised that monsters weren't real. And stealing another glance at the gold-plated demon lingering off and away, such a statement held little water anymore.

She yawned a bit, tiny body worn out from such a barrage of events and new information, leaning forward to rest on Valefor's head. She curled up slightly, hiding her face in his thin fur and sniffling, feeling Pip comfortingly rubbing her back and breathing out in broken waves. She felt so lost, felt a helplessness and a loneliness that she'd never experienced before. Tears trailed down her cheeks, landing in Valefor's fur as he nuzzled down further into her legs, letting her clutch tighter around his skull without so much as a grunt.

There was nothing that Kat could think of in her over-stimulated mind except where she wanted and _needed_ to be: In her fathers' bed, where the four of them were curled up so closely with one another, where the so-called nonexistent monsters would be kept at bay. Where it was the safest place in the world.


	12. The Yoke of Bondage

" **And that servant who knew his master's will but did not get ready or act according to his will, will receive a severe beating."** _ **-Luke 12:47**_

The toasted sky stretched over his head, his eyes glazed as he stared up into the scorching clouds and the smoke billowing from aimless directions up from the broken ground to meet them. Kyle let out a soft noise of discontent as a clawed hand remained firmly wrapped in his hair, Damien dragging his limp form along the ash and stone with an air of nonchalance that made Kyle's insides _boil_. He couldn't seem to find his bearings, fading in and out with blood loss in a way he hadn't experienced for so goddamn long. He forgot how dizzied, how _helpless_ one felt in this situation, where every ounce of life was trying to seep out of you, but you weren't permitted to go.

He looked down at his leaded legs, focusing wearily on them as they numbly scraped over the jagged terrain. This was terrifying, far more terrifying than he was prepared for. He was exhausted, he'd no doubt lost over a pint of blood by now. He was immobile, Damien had him in his hands, and he could do _nothing_ about it. Kyle hissed softly at claws scraping against his scalp, bleary eyes closing and lip trembling. Kenny would figure something out. There were ten bodies up there that were going to look at every angle, find some way to get Kat out of harm's way. From there it was just a matter of taking Damien down, that was the easy part.

But here… here Kyle knew _his_ only job: Keeping Damien happy enough to keep Kat out of his sight.

He shuddered, unwilling to think about just what it was he was going to be used for. Damien mentioned something about _plans_ for him. Last time he said that, Kyle ended up becoming infected, his humanity torn asunder and sending him down a self-degrading path for half a decade at this point. _'God, how much more of my life can he ruin?'_ he thought before gulping. A lot. Damien could ruin _a lot_ more. Even taking Kat and Kenny out of the equation, Damien held far too much over him to ignore.

He knew how to cut without a blade, could twist Kyle's mentality with a devastating phrase in a way he couldn't avoid. Kyle was disadvantaged, despite his victory over the antichrist, despite pushing down the control he had over him. Damien knew he was still lingering within, hiding within the quiet shadows of Kyle's day-to-day life. Kyle had learned enough about him in his stint as a hostage to know that had he shed Damien completely, had he fully accepted and embraced what he had become, the demon wouldn't have been so eager to get him back. He wanted to unearth what Kyle had spent so long throwing loose dirt on top of, wanted to bring those fears, that subconscious self-hatred up to its fullest potential.

"You're awfully quiet, mouse," Damien purred, sneaking a glance back at his boneless prize.

"Fuck you," Kyle muttered, eyes scrunching at a rough pull against his curls.

A forked tongue tutted, "Now, now. I expect you to be polite to your betters."

Kyle rolled his eyes, "Figure you'd get _bored_ of me were I _meek and polite_ ," he mocked.

Damien smirked. He wasn't wrong. He certainly hadn't infected him in the first place because he was cowering in the corner. The exhilaration of their past chase was lit anew, feeling both his own and Kyle's fires raging within the paralyzed mixed breed. Kenny's own contribution onto his soul could easily simmer the spiteful bite of Kyle's humanity, convince his mortal soul to blossom into goodness as was expected of similar beings. Damien's own ingredient to the mix, however, would forever rage all the same. An angel cannot _tame_ a demon; they can merely tolerate them. They can spout their gospels and their psalms in the vague hope of preventing a conflict, but it always ended the same: One of them was going to destroy the other. And Kyle's original soul was trapped in the middle of the two domineering forces, cursed with the geniality of an angel and the brash violence of the demonic counterpart. He'd made a dire mistake bonding himself with Kenny's power: He hadn't anticipated Damien would be coming back for him, his sights now set on destroying that celestial portion of _his_ creation.

Kenny had no doubt influenced Kyle's soul, but Damien had been the first to stake his _claim_ over it. It was the undeclared land that he had shaped to his own ideals, and he wasn't about to let any angelic presence think that they had that over him. They had already won enough; he was taking back the one thing that rightfully belonged under his thumb.

"Just remember:" Damien chuckled, "Manners matter this time around. You have much more at stake than just _you_."

"You said that last time, too," he reminded him in a grumble. "All you fucking talked about was Kenny and the fucking world."

Damien grinned, coming to a stop and looking down as Kyle glanced towards him with that hatred seated deep in a green stare. He ripped him upwards with a cut cry and twisted him around, bending and bringing his shoulder to Kyle's stomach, bashing back against him before straightening back up. Kyle groaned as he was lifted, bound hands dangling down lifelessly towards Damien's hips, his ribs aching from the bony prominence prodding against them. Damien's arm swung up to keep him steady, Kyle gritting his teeth and growling as a hand deliberately trailed down his back, settling itself on his ass. He couldn't feel it, but knew well enough by the cocky smirk prominent on Damien's face.

"You're right," Damien finally replied, continuing walking onwards towards their destination. "But you were willing to die for the world and leave McCormick alone. I _doubt_ you feel the same about potentially leaving your child."

Kyle coughed a bit, shaking as another round of dripping blood pulsed out of him, "If I die for good, you have no reason to keep her."

"Oh, but I _do_. Because McCormick will try _avenging_ you if I let you take the easy way out. Have to make sure we don't risk that. So little Katlyn would be raised by _me_. Wouldn't like that very much, would you, little one?"

Kyle growled again. He wasn't letting that happen. No _way_ would that be the course that this disaster took. A strong blend of scents caught his weary attention, looking over to see a plethora of demons lingering in the distance, staring at them as they moved onwards. Kyle's stomach twisted, seeing the infuriation raging in their darkened eyes. They remembered him it seemed, remembered him all too well. Damien looked towards them as well with a curt laugh. "You have an audience," he purred. "Best stick with me, or they'll rip you apart."

"I can take all of them on," he hissed, wincing as he was shifted on Damien's broad shoulder.

"Not with those chains," he reminded him. "And you're _not_ getting out of them very often, so I'd suggest you lose your little confidence before it ends up destroying you."

He rolled his eyes, "Hi, Pot, meet fuckin' Kettle."

Damien hummed, an amused noise as he dug his fingers down slightly into the fleshed globe beneath his claws. He smiled, tracing a claw up towards the unnumbed portion of his back and smoothly scraping a light line into the skin. Kyle went rigid, feeling the promise hidden in so subtle a touch. That fear was still _so_ palpable, and Kyle couldn't hide it for anything. He could push down a lot of other terrors that simmered within him, but that was one that he could _never_ escape.

He brought him up to an isolated cave, a simple thick door plastered along the outside. A warning glance was shot towards the observing demons, the lot of them recoiling at his glare and quickly getting the message. They all turned and began moving away at once as Damien lightly kicked open the barrier, Kyle's face contorting at the appearance of a dimly lit room with little but a bed and trunk off in the corner. He glanced towards the other side of the area, a bookshelf with musty tomes haphazardly stacked alongside each other. He coughed again as Damien stepped inside and kicked the door closed behind him.

Damien could feel the trepidation beginning to rapidly swell within his captive as his eyes landed on the bed again, the monster's face curling into a sadistic grin. "Something _wrong_ , my mouse?" he cooed.

"Why are we here?" Kyle asked, voice barely able to breech above a whisper. He wanted use of his legs. He wanted to kick and scream and run to grab Kat and somehow get them _out_.

"I'm just giving you the tour," he shrugged innocently, gesturing with his free arm. "This is my room. Or, I guess now, _our_ room," he smirked.

Kyle's chest clenched, head shaking and trying to wriggle out of his tight grip, feeling the arm around him tighten, his throat trying to close. "No. Not happening!" he snapped, a tiny whine escaping him as he was walked towards the padded surface. He continued trying to pull himself out of his grip, growing dizzy with his struggles but refusing to just let this happen without a fight. He yelped as Damien rolled him off his shoulder down onto the mattress, Kyle going to move as soon as his back hit the solidarity, trying to roll off before being grabbed and planted down into place. His eyes widened, jaw trembling as Damien leaned over him, recognizing that predatory gaze right off and shaking, trying to shove him off before his bound wrists were grabbed, forced back against his chest. "NO!" he spat, wriggling about and Damien watching in amusement.

He hummed, free hand brushing back sweated bangs and letting Kyle feel the slow, purposeful bite of his claws dragging up his forehead. "Little mouse, little mouse," he crooned, gripping his chin and shaking him, forcing his eyes back open. Kyle's heart was pounding, entire body alit with a painful terror as years-old phantom aches settled back down into his nerves. "You have a _very_ important question you need to ask yourself." He leaned down closer, Kyle sinking as far as he could into the plushness beneath him, a pure contrast to the hardened, malicious hunger ringing through ruby-encrusted eyes. "Which means more to you? Your body? Or your daughter's _life_?" he grinned.

Kyle blinked, lashes batting anxiously and torso practically vibrating beneath Damien's lingering, _staining_ touch. The answer was more than obvious, but he couldn't fucking say it, couldn't give him that _power_. "What…" he stopped and gulped, face twitching at a casual thumb dragging along his cheek. "What would this even accomplish?" he whispered. Last time had a goal, had the intention of bringing out his demonic presence into full-swing, _forcing_ Kyle to accept it through his loss. Here, however… Kyle's organs twisted at a wider smile breaking over Damien's face.

"Why must there be a goal?" he drawled, tapping his nose. "I already told you: I'm done trying to raise you up. I'm bringing you _down_ ," he hissed, a hand clasping down around Kyle's throat. Kyle arched and choked, shoulders jerking in a futile escape attempt. He whimpered brokenly at buttons of his shirt popping out of place, his hands going back up with Damien's distraction to try to shove him off. The demon remained unfazed, staring at that familiar collarbone and neck flooding his vision, entire palate moistening over at the sight. He turned Kyle's head, forcing his cheek against the mattress and leaning closer, Kyle breathing in rapid gasps as he felt hot air washing over his exposed skin.

' _Kenny… Kenny figure something out_ _ **now**_ _,'_ he prayed. His eyes slammed shut, teeth clattering at a pleased hum from Damien. His mouth fell open in a pained groan as a familiar, razor-sharp sensation dug straight into the crook of his neck. Tears dripped through auburn lashes, trying to fight his way out as he sunk deeper into his skin. Kyle gasped in agony as Damien's jaw clenched, the tips of his fangs delving into his scapula to graze the marrow.

Damien was beside himself, hand moving from Kyle's throat to the back of his head, ripping through his hair and yanking him to the side for clearer access. It was _delectable_ , tasting every missed year, every lost opportunity to take back what was his. Kyle's blood still tasted of _him_ , his curse forever flowing through his veins. "STOP!" Kyle shouted through gritted teeth, flinching and twitching, whining as his fangs tore through more skin before finally sliding out. He coughed once more, unable to stop his shaking and the double vision ravaging his eyesight as his fresh wound joined the draining party.

Damien watched with a glimmer to his eye, staring at his mark and laughing to himself with pride as dark blood trailed down his neck and clavicle, smothering the purple hickeys Kenny had left him with that morning. He tongued over his fangs, tasting the bitter, reassuring staunchness of his life force and grinning. "Here's the deal," he started, turning his head back upright, waiting until those teary eyes met his and _relishing_ in the repulsion. "You have a very _very_ important choice to make. Either you continue with your agreement for _compliance_ ," he reminded him, squeezing his cheeks, "and your daughter and those idiots you have with her are kept fed and protected. Or… you keep on fighting. You keep fighting and run the risk that _I_ lose my patience with you and decide that _punishment_ is in order. Are we clear?"

Kyle stared at him, gulping and snarling. "You _can't_ do this to me. You fucking _know_ what's going to happen to you if you fucking try to pull this shit!"

He smirked, "Oh? And what's that?"

Kyle's brow furrowed, labored breath seeping through his teeth as fury and panic duked it out, his eyes flashing with color like strobe lights. "I have fucking _eight_ archangels ready to tear you apart," he hissed. "The _second_ your guard is down, you're fucking _dead_."

Damien snorted, once more brushing back his bangs. "Mhm, I'm sure they'd send the armada for a little demon's rescue," he poked his forehead. "Just like they did last time."

He narrowed his eyes, "Last time, there were no fucking options. And you seem to forget, I belong to _Heaven_ ," he smirked, confidence brimming with the reminder. "Which means, if you turn your back on _me_ , I can kill you myself."

Damien grinned deviously, cupping his chin and clicking his tongue. "I know," he purred. "Such a _strong_ little mouse with God's light, aren't you?" He chuckled at the dark glare flashing over his profile, squeezing his face. "That's why we're gonna fix that little snag."

"What… what do you mean?" he demanded, freezing as a hand worked its way under his back to his puncture wound. He gritted his teeth, arching as claws dug back in and feeling the telltale warming numbness of his healing power. The deadness in his disabled legs turned into fire, spastic sensations making them jerk with pain as they tried to regain some hint of normalcy. A soft whimper escaped him as the claws withdrew, his body sinking back onto the bed and his jaw shaking at the stabbing awakening coursing through him. His eyes widened, backing up again as Damien leaned over him, practically bumping noses and forcing him to take in nothing but red irises and a famished appetite. A horrified chill ran down his reinvigorating spine, reading with ease that he was what Damien had been waiting for to sate a ruthless hunger. And he didn't know how to _stop him_.

A forked tongue clicked, a stray hand gripping Kyle's hip and his thumb riding the ridge of his pelvis, the touch fleeting, but recognizable to Kyle's stirring nerves. "You weren't supposed to get out," he said, voice dropping dangerously. "Win or lose, _you_ weren't supposed to go anywhere but right back _here_."

Kyle scowled, "You really think if Kenny won, you would've been able to fucking keep me? Took you five fucking years to get back up, you don't think he would've come to finish you off and save me?"

"He isn't the deciding factor. _I_ am," he emphasized, putting enough pressure on his hip that Kyle wondered if the bone would snap right under his palm. "You're not getting out this time."

He could hear the severity in his tone, the promise of his personal destruction dancing on his tongue. "You fucking _sick_ , _obsessed_ piece of shit!" he snapped, groaning as the hand around his bone tightened. "I have _all_ of Heaven on my fucking side," he hissed. "They'll get my daughter and then you're _fucked_."

"No, no matter what happens, _you're_ fucked," he corrected, grabbing his arms and shoving them back against his chest. "You belong to Heaven for now, little one, but we're going to fix that. _You're_ going to fix it." He snarled, finally standing and ripping Kyle up onto his feet. Kyle cried out, his legs trying to buckle with the immense pressure suddenly bearing down on them yet again, unable to collect himself before Damien snagged his hair and began leading him forward, forcing him to move quicker than his nerves could seem to handle. He bristled as Damien yanked the door open and led him through, leaning down and breathing hotly against his neck. "You seem to forget who made you what you are, little mouse," he hissed, Kyle shaking and braving a glance backwards, stomach dropping at the malicious grin plastered over the antichrist's face. "I think it's time to finally come back to where you _belong_."


	13. The Land Which you Have Known

**"'Were they ashamed because of the abomination they had done? They certainly were not ashamed, And they did not know how to blush; Therefore they shall fall among those who fall; At the time of their punishment they shall be brought down,' Says the LORD."** _**-Jeramiah 8:12**_

It'd been quite some time since he'd felt like this.

Kenny's chest dully thudded with pain, eyes burning and unable to look anyone in the face for more than a few seconds at a time. He didn't understand this, didn't know _what_ his family was being put through this time around. The options were staggering, and Damien had once more left him with an ambiguous promise to make sure Kenny _regretted_ having people so close to him to care about.

His eyes narrowed, looking down at the glass table in front of him and forcing himself to take a long breath. Damien didn't mention a damn thing regarding _him_. Didn't tell him to do anything but stay out of his allowances. That left Kenny with only two options to consider: Either Damien was working the stealthy long con, was going to find a way to take him by surprise with his plot and render him immobile before Kenny could so much as blink… Or he wasn't even a factor. Damien hadn't come after _him_ , only Kyle. But that just laid _more_ confusion out before him. Was it pure revenge against Kyle that was driving him? Was it a question of mere _power_? Kenny was no fool, knew that Kyle's tangled soul propelled him far beyond himself in means of strength. He'd had to live learning to control them over the years, Kenny just had to keep his damn protective nature under wraps, no side effects to be seen.

"There's gotta be something he's looking for," Selaphiel commented, brow just as furrowed as Kenny's, the group of archangels staring downwards in heavy thought. "Maybe he's trying to take back Kyle's power for himself."

"No," Raphael shook his head. "Then he wouldn't have taken Kat. He would've just stripped Kyle of his abilities and been done with it."

Kenny shuddered, "And he doesn't want Ky dead. He can say otherwise all he fuckin' wants, but we all know he isn't letting Kyle off the hook so damn easily. Besides, this way he has Kyle to do his dirty work, whatever the fuck it may be." He groaned, moving to hop up and sit on the table, listlessly looking at the dried, caked blood still streaking across his wings. "Can we get a demon up here?"

Uriel glanced over, eyes narrowing. "What on _Earth_ would you want to do _that_ for?"

"Well, none of _us_ can get down there to spy," he reminded him with a scowl. "Can't send no angel down there before they're fuckin' sent to goddamn purgatory. If we can convince a _demon_ to get on our side, though, then we could have a spy that Damien wouldn't have ripped to shreds if they played their cards right."

He rolled his eyes, "Kenneth, what the _hell_ are you going to tell a _demon_ to get them on our side?"

Jegudiel shrugged from the other side of the table, "Perhaps tell them an exception could be made to grant them access to Heaven upon their mission completion?"

Gabriel shook his head, "How many demons would want that? Not very many, I assure you. Besides, we couldn't _get there_ to grab one regardless."

Kenny scratched up awkwardly through his hair. "Well… maybe _Ky_ could send one up…"

"Kyle _banished_ most of them," Michael reminded them all. "They can't go further than Peter's Gate. We couldn't grant them divine powers without them being able to cross into Paradise. I'm positive that any _capable_ of such a mission would have been part of the army."

"Well ain't that just a fuckin' kick in the teeth rule?" Ken rolled his eyes with a long groan, dragging his hands down over his face. "All right, I need honest goddamn opinions here from all of you," he dropped his palms, looking at them all watching him intensively to proceed. "There's no fuckin' doubt that Ky isn't safe, we all know that well enough by now. Question is… how safe do you think my kid is?"

They all looked at each other, shifting uncomfortably and crossing their arms in thought. They couldn't say for sure, knew that Damien would pull any damn card to get what he wanted, even with the life of a toddler being the string to snap. Kenny looked around the group, waiting for one of them to garner the balls to speak the fuck up. He was just as uncertain as _they_ seemed to be, but he had an _excuse_. This was _his daughter_. He had enough panic attacks every morning dropping her off at preschool, running through all the awful things that could happen; he was always dreading that phone call that he and Kyle needed to rush to the hospital because she tripped on the playground and was unconscious, or some spoiled little brat hit her and broke her nose. Parenthood was _nothing_ but worst-case scenarios always at the forefront of one's mind, and this was those fears coming to fruition _tenfold_.

God cleared His throat at long last, the angels looking towards Him in relief for taking hold of a side. He glanced up at Kenny and heaved a sigh, "I think that, should Kyle follow whatever he has in mind, Damien won't touch her. If he does, he _knows_ that Kyle will see the holes in his story and exploit them and rebel since his compliance would be meaningless if he hurt Katlyn. If he keeps his distance as promised, then Kyle will hold onto that vow and do as told. None of us are stupid," He gestured around the room, "we _all_ know what this is. It's a pure and simple power play. The only thing that Damien is _good at_."

Kenny sneered lightly, "Dunno 'bout that. He's pretty fuckin' great at pissin' me off, too."

"We're going to get them out, Kenneth," God swore.

He took a deep breath and looked at Him with distraught blue eyes. "God, no offense, but last time ya told me that, I ended up with a demonic fiancé who _still_ can't look 'imself in the mirror most days. I think you can understand my skepticism here."

"Like He said," Raphael interjected, "Damien will not do the same to Kat. That much we can be certain of."

Kenny frowned, "Yeah. And you were all pretty goddamn _certain_ that she would be protected, too. Now I got two dead in-laws, a kidnapped daughter, and a maimed hostage of a husband. I'm pretty _not_ certain about _anything_ you guys are tellin' me. For all we know, he _wants_ to make her a little demon, too."

Michael shook his head, "Even if she could survive that, she's too young to have stability over any amount of power. She'd be too dangerous for Damien to get a hold on."

He wagged his finger, eyes widening in an escalating madness that had the rest of them cringing uneasily. "Unless that's why Ky is there! To teach her how t' fuckin' get a hold on it like he learned! Then Damien's got Ky's power _and_ hers, and that's _two_ people that I wouldn't fuckin' hurt so he has the advantage _again_."

Kenny flinched as Jesus came up beside him, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You're really reaching there, Kenny," he said softly.

"With all the shit he's put me and Ky through, you think _anything_ is outta his scope?" he looked at the group, rapidly scratching over his arms in a nerve-wracked frenzy. "I mean, he's desperate enough to use her as a fuckin' _shield._ "

"Exactly," God said firmly. "He's using her out of _desperation_. Because he _knows_ that without her, Kyle could incapacitate him without a second thought and get you or another to finish him off. He's making a grab for power, and he's struggling to find it without resorting to another hostage situation."

Kenny frowned, "I'm sure there was an alternate plan of some fuckin' sort. Kat was probably just his stroke of _luck_. I'm _sure_ he spent all that fuckin' time recovering tryin' to think of a way to get me n' Ky back."

Gabriel nodded in agreement, "Probably. All he seems to be able to function on is revenge. But he can't kill you, and Kyle's more than likely stronger than he is at this point, or at least equal. He'd have to do _serious_ damage to one of you if he didn't have Kat."

Michael shrugged, scratching at his hair, "Probably keep you imprisoned and Kyle injured at all times to keep you both under wraps."

He scoffed, crossing his arms and pouting, "He couldn't keep me goddamn _imprisoned_."

Uriel cocked his brow, "If he kept hurting Kyle, he could. Unable to kill or not, he can still _hurt_ both of you. It's the only way he remains a credible threat, and he knows it."

Kenny groaned, beating the heels of his palms against his forehead. "Why couldn't he just stay down there?" he whimpered. "Fuck, why didn't I fuckin' _kill 'im_ when I had the chance?!"

God sighed quietly, paws plodding along the shining surface of the table and placing a comforting touch against his arm. "You thought you did," He reminded him. "We _all_ thought you did. And there's only one reason Damien came _back_."

"He's out of his fucking mind," Raphael finished, shaking his head.

He nodded in agreement, "Exactly. He got a _sip_ of power _once_ and he thinks he can increase it into gallons if he plays his cards right. And it's unfortunate that Kyle is his pawn for the past _and_ whatever he hopes to do here, but you know better than any of us that Kyle will be working the entire time to dismantle whatever he has in mind."

Kenny looked down at the floor, shaking his head. "No. I _don't_ know. It's one thing when _you're_ the one getting hurt or whatever. It's another when it's someone _else_ on the line, ya know?" he winced. "I mean, fuckin' _Christ_ I was a fucking _disaster_ with everything Damien did to Ky, and everything I thought _could_ happen. Ky's just as paranoid as I am that Kat's gonna… fall down steps o-or Val will accidentally step on her and break her damn foot or something. And he knows better than anyone else in the goddamn universe what Damien can do and how much he can ruin your life, so that's not gonna help him keep a steady head."

The celestial figures fell quiet, looking at one another and letting his words sink in. He had a point, far more of one than any of them were truly willing to admit. This put them right back to square one from five years ago, and placed Kyle on a new tier entirely to work his way through.

Michael took a deep breath, nodding slowly. "You have a point. And first thing's first, we need to find out _exactly_ what Damien has in mind. We can figure out what to do from there, otherwise we're just treading water and can't come up with a plan to get Katlyn out of his sights."

"Exactly," Ken agreed. "Ky told me he can handle Damien, he just needs the potential ammo against him out of the way." He glanced down to God still holding his arm and twisted his lips. "God, he said Pip is with Kat. Can you talk to him at all?"

He nodded, "I can. His soul belongs up here after all."

"Good, can you get me an update on Kat, please?"

He nodded, paws coming together and clasping in concentration, dark, beady eyes scanning the glimmering silver floor. He let His body feel pulled as He tried focusing on Hell, travelling through the separate realms and ignoring the chaotic messes within each as He passed. His tail flickered, Kenny wincing as it bopped against his arm time and again, God taking no notice as He searched for a heavenly spirit meshed in the billions of hellacious souls bounding around the deepest plane. _'Ah_ ,' He thought, catching the airy weight of Pip's purified soul in the jumble and honing in on it, eyes scrunching as He flew towards him. He landed on Pip looking beyond concerned and sitting with Valefor, a restlessly napping Kat on his paws.

' _Pip_ ,' He thought, the angel jolting up.

'… _God?'_

' _How is the child?'_

Pip gulped, looking back at the toddler and taking a shaking breath. _'Well, quite terrified. I don't know where to_ start _explaining this all to her!'_

' _One moment,'_ He ordered, looking up at Kenny's waiting expression. "He wants to know where to start explaining any of this to her."

Kenny blinked, looking off blankly in front of him. Oh boy. He had no fuckin' _idea_. She was gonna know about Kyle's predicament sooner or later, maybe even his own. He needed Kyle to make this damn call, he was never the one who structured her damn _lesson plans_. He just read whatever book was instructed and helped her practice whatever numbers Kyle put in front of them while he made dinner. This was a tad more complicated than showing her how to add on her damn fingers. "Tell him… as it comes along," he decided, hoping Kyle would agree with his methodology. If not, he could teach her as he wanted if he got to see her. "She asks a shit ton of questions, he can answer them as they come up. No matter what they are," he said, nodding more to himself than God, trying to convince himself that he was making the right call.

God watched his confliction, nodding slowly and turning His attention back to a waiting Pip. _'Kenneth requests you teach her what she wants to know. Any questions she asks, you need to answer. Truthfully,'_ He added. _'No benefit will come from lying to her.'_

Pip nodded, biting on his knuckle and watching Kat curling in her sleep, Val moving to rest his head close enough for her to grasp onto. _'Even about Kyle?'_

God took a deep breath, glancing back at Kenny. "What of Kyle?"

"Whaddya mean?"

"Do you want Pip to tell her what he is if her questions lead down that route? Or do you think that'd be better for _him_ to explain to her?"

Kenny frowned, rubbing his temple. He had a feeling Kyle wasn't going to have much _time_ to explain anything to her, if he got any time at _all_ outside of Damien's plans. "Kyle needs to," he decided regardless. "Or at least… Kyle has to be the one to tell Pip it's okay for him to tell her. I-I can't make that call for him. He can tell her about me all he wants, but Ky _has_ to be the one to okay stuff about him."

God nodded in agreement. Made sense; made a _lot_ of sense. It was the one thing Kyle was steadfastly determined to keep his child from knowing, he had to be the one to figure out how to approach the inevitable. _'Leave that be. Let Kyle make that decision. Everything else is open-aired, just keep her calm and safe. And keep an eye out for breeches in their imprisonment,'_ he added. _'If you can find a place to get her where one of the men can get her out of harm's way, that would make this ordeal much simpler.'_

Pip winced, but nodded, _'I-I'll do my best. Though, with how tightly he has Kyle locked into this mess, I can't say such a place would even exist, Sir.'_

' _It's the effort that counts here, Philip,'_ He affirmed. _'Your job is merely to keep her from breaking. She's young, she can withstand a good deal, but she needs help figuring her way through this. Do you understand?'_

' _Yes_ ,' he promised. _'Please, tell Kenny I'll do everything I can for her. And will keep him updated in some way.'_

God let out a long sigh of relief, _'Just call for me when needed, and I'll pass on the message. Thank you, Philip_.' He allowed Pip to say his farewell before looking back at Kenny's waiting expression and returning all focus back onto the congregation room. "He'll do what he can," He informed him. "And he'll keep you updated and looking for ways to get her out."

Kenny sighed, nodding in approval. "Best I can hope for right now I guess," he muttered, running a hand up through his hair. "Okay. I'm just gonna… go on the assumption that you guys are right, and that Kat's A-Okay if Ky… does what Damien wants," he worked out through a throatful of nervous bile. "Otherwise I'm gonna fuckin' have another full-scale freak out and I don't think any of us wanna deal with that, right?" he looked around, getting a resounding agreement from the rest of the group. He looked back at God's pitying expression and sighed. "You can get to Pip, can you get to Ky, too?"

God nodded, "What do you need to ask him?"

"I just… need to know what the hell he's going through," he frowned, eyes glazing over in distress. "Last time I kept… _missing_ things happening and I can't let that happen again. If we see, maybe we can help him prevent something, ya know? He's gonna need all the damn help he can get right now."

"Absolutely," he concurred, letting himself settle back in Hell's plane, eyes narrowing as He tried to pick up Kyle's unique soul nestled among the others. It snapped up from the Eastern side, God sighing in relief and following it along the realm, landing on a very nervous looking Kyle being led along the charcoal ground, Damien hissing into his ear and full of nothing but malicious, spiteful smirks. _'Kyle,_ ' God tried, blinking at no reaction. _'Kyle, it's God. Answer me, Damien won't hear you.'_

Another bout of silence came and went, Kyle not seeming to register his communication in the slightest as he was forcefully led forward.

"He can't hear me," God said blankly.

Jesus looked down at Him and cocked his head. "What are you talking about? His soul belongs up here, he should be able to."

"Not if Damien is blocking it," He murmured in thought. "He wants to keep me _out,_ leave Kyle to his own devices."

Kenny stared at him in shock, "How the fuck is he blocking you?!"

He shrugged, a rare expression of frustration crossing over his gray face. "With as many spells as he knows, I can't say I'm _shocked_ he came across something so simple as a mental block."

"Can you show me what's happening?!" he demanded, standing up off the table and feeling his heart pounding. Damien was doing this for a reason, he wanted to keep God, Kenny, or any other heavenly force from influencing Kyle's decisions. Just leave it up to him going on blind faith that Kat was still safe, that everything still rested on him cooperating. God straightened, closing his eyes with a long, steady breath, keeping focus on Kyle's location and flicking a paw upwards. The group watched that sickeningly familiar portal splash before them, the stark red of Hell disturbingly contrasted against their holy domain. They all moved to get a better view and watch with clenched hearts and fists as they observed a still-bleeding Kyle being pushed further and further into a barren field.

"What is he doing?" Raphael asked in a worried murmur.

Kenny's jaw shook, a dry gulp rushing down his throat at the anger, fear, and confusion spelled on his husband's exhausted face. Kyle didn't seem to know either, he was being led blindfolded to the next step of his personal destruction without a _clue_ of what was waiting for him.

Kyle stumbled in dizziness, Damien ripping him back upright and tutting his tongue. _"Keep on moving, little one."_

Kyle sneered, half-heartedly bashing back against him, just too fucking dizzy to keep up his rebellion. _"It's your fuckin' fault,"_ he rasped, yelping at a pointed kick to the back of his leg sending him crumpling forward in a curled heap. He gasped, eyes scrunching at a clawed hand finding its way around his neck, lifting his torso off the ground and tilting his head up.

Damien shook him, " _Look at me_ ," he demanded. Pained green eyes creaked back open, Kenny's heart lurching at the anger that Kyle had to keep locked into expression alone. Damien grinned slyly, stroking back a lock of bangs and Kyle jerking from the familiar touch before being forced back into place. _"I'd suggest you move when I say you move, otherwise you hold the fuck still and let me touch what I_ want," he hissed, grabbing a fistful of his bangs and ripping him forward, Kyle folding his lips in to conceal a cry. _"Now. Are you gonna get up and walk? Or am I taking you there piece by piece?"_

Kyle's face twitched, Kenny knowing that look of pure _fury_ better than anyone. He wanted to scream, wanted to _attack_. His heart fell with Kyle instead giving a simple mutter, verbal admittance of being backed straight into a corner: _"I'll walk_."

" _Good boy,"_ Damien cooed, grinning madly at the hate flooding his eyes as he brought him back onto his feet and going straight back to leading him down the way.

Michael shook his head, "Disgusting."

"That's putting it mildly," Uriel murmured. "He's already wearing him down."

"Again, mild," Kenny said shakily, putting a hand over his mouth and trying to control himself as Kyle continued to be taken off and away to an unknown destination. He let his eyes slip closed for a moment, hearing nothing but spatters of Damien's cruel words and Kyle's labored breathing and pained whines. _'Just keep strong, Ky,'_ he prayed, tears dotting his lashes. _'We'll figure this out…'_ He glanced back up, body tensing in ferocity at Damien leaning so close to his ear, Kyle looking _beyond_ uncomfortable and nervous of what was to come. A tremor roared down Kenny's spine, that expression one that still haunted his dreams, still lingered as a horrific truth of a time long passed. But here it was again, just as dreadful as he remembered it, feeling just as fucking helpless as he was before. A devious chuckle echoed from the portal, both Kenny and Kyle shutting their eyes and forcing themselves to breathe, praying for the other; one to come to his rescue, the other to tell him _how_ to rescue him.

Kenny shook his head, sniffling at another glance at his compromised husband. No matter what was coming, one truth rang perfectly clear in the silence surrounding him: They couldn't figure this out soon enough.


	14. Surrender my Body to be Burned

**By faith Moses, when he had grown up, refused to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter, choosing rather to endure ill-treatment with the people of God than to enjoy the passing pleasures of sin, considering the reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures of Egypt; for he was looking to the reward. By faith he left Egypt, not fearing the wrath of the king; for he endured, as seeing Him who is unseen. -** _ **Hebrews 11: 24-27**_

With each step, he couldn't help but fear it could be his last. Damien couldn't kill him, he knew that well enough. But _something_ was whirring in that malicious mind of his, and Kyle just didn't have enough information to stop whatever notions he had. He grunted with a rough squeeze around his shoulder, eyes dropping down to his bound wrists and a snarl playing on his lips. He was fucking _helpless_. He was right back at fucking _square one_ down here. No use of his damn powers, stuck just _waiting_ for someone to rescue him _again_.

' _I'm too fucking old for this damsel shit,'_ he thought in exhaustion. He was too old last time, too, but teetering on thirty and being trapped was enough for his pride to collapse and flail on the ground in a childish tantrum. He looked back up, narrowing his eyes at a raised black and flattened object lingering in the distance. A chill ran down his spine. This seemed familiar. _Way_ too familiar, but he couldn't seem to _place it_. His confusion was interrupted with another deep grip of claws against his skin, face twisting in a wince. "Why the _fuck_ didn't you just use a fucking portal?" he snapped, reaching the end of his patience. "I don't need a fucking _tour_."

Damien grinned slyly, "Because. The more you walk, the more you lose," he purred, dragging a bony finger through a still-trickling trail of blood running down Kyle's exposed forearm. "The more you lose, the weaker you are, and the easier this'll be."

Kyle's brow knitted, trying to figure out just what the hell he was planning, but coming up short. Something to do with his damn puppetry? Some kind of experiment to make him _subservient_ outside of trying to avoid his threats?

Damien felt his confusion and laughed to himself, reaching up to snare Kyle's chin and make him look straight ahead at the object there were approaching. "Recognize it yet?" he asked, Kyle's lashes fluttering as he tried so desperately to put together the puzzle that he was being handed. "Well. Maybe you don't, since you were unconscious when I brought you here," he hinted, grinning madly at Kyle's face dropping into a horrified realization.

Kyle's spine stiffened, legs trying to halt their advancement before being forced to continue onwards. Stilted pieces began to emerge, remembering little more than blinding pain, awakening from what he thought was a nightmare only to find he'd been thrown into one. Nothing but panic and _hate_ , groggily finding claws and a damning mark on his hand, his mouth awkwardly rearranged with longer additions and a burning in his blood that still haunted him regardless of how long ago it was shed. Back to the ritualistic slab, back to the foundation of the curse he'd been suffering through for over five years. Back to what had effectively ruined the rest of his life.

"What are we doing here?!" he snapped, panic beginning to override his planning, terrified that Damien had found a way to make him _completely_ demonic, wash away all hints of his humanity and celestial grace he'd spent so long learning to counterbalance against their dangerous adversary.

Damien hummed, "I already told you. We're fixing a certain _problem_ you've put in my path. You've been under _God's_ hands for far too long," he flicked him pointedly. "Tell me though, how does that feel?"

Kyle blinked, still fighting through possibilities, "What the fuck do you mean?"

"I _mean_ how does it feel being the only _demon_ under His domain? Bet it's lonely, isn't it?" he cooed. "Bet it _kills you_ being the only one up there with no wings, new faces coming in and _seeing you_ and being _afraid_."

Kyle's lips pursed shut, trembling with anger. He hated this, because he couldn't even fucking tell him he was wrong. He'd met a decent amount of new additions at the gates, their paths crossing in front of Peter, Kyle being greeted with _horror_. More than once people had panicked that they'd gone to Hell instead, _far_ more than once had requests been made to God to _smite him_ and keep the angels safe. Kyle often was nearby when such requests came about, having to be dragged over and watch his husband launch into a snippy tirade over how Kyle was the only reason there was even still a Heaven to go to. Heaven did nothing more for Kyle but make him tired, did nothing but really drive in just how different he was, especially in a world where everyone else's wings had the exact same number of feathers in the same shining pristine white. Angelic perks aside, it wasn't worth having to be flown everywhere like a child or seeing veteran angels berating the newcomers for their disrespect. He wanted the attention _away_ from him, not directed so blatantly at him he may as well be sharing God's ethereal glow.

"You don't know that I don't have wings," he grumbled.

Damien chuckled, "I threw you past the gate. And you still belonged to _Him_. So yes, I _do_ know. And _besides_ , that gets passed down in _our_ line, little one. You can save Earth as many times as you want, but you'll always be _dirt_ in Heaven's eyes."

"No, _you're_ the one they think is _dirt_. I just inherited your fucking _side effect_."

He shook his head. "Still? Even after _all_ this time? Figured _you_ would have the wherewithal to _accept_ that you and I are so _close_ ," he hissed in his ear. Kyle's eye twitched, uneasily focusing on the now-visible ridges of the basalt slab. Damien hummed, a claw tapping against Kyle's shoulder. _A countdown_ , Kyle's weary mind whispered in torment. A countdown to _what_ , he didn't know, but that didn't stop his stomach from curling, his instincts from screaming at him to run. Just _run_ and _take his chances_ to get Kat out.

Too much risk, he reminded himself through a shaking breath. Kat couldn't defend herself here. He couldn't use his powers. Valefor could only do so much to assist and stood no chance against Damien. He had to just do this, play it by ear and pray that Kenny would figure this out sooner than he could. He knew well enough there were ten divine figures gathered around a room, plotting to find a way to get them out. They weren't going to stop, and, despite his circumstances, despite the past's turn of events… he found miniscule comfort in such a fact.

They came upon the altar and Kyle bit his lip nervously. It was bigger than he remembered, far too distracted by newfound powers and veins getting ripped from his back to take note of such menial things. "Why are we here?" he finally asked, keeping his voice flat and controlled. He needed _something_ to hold onto. Something to remind both Damien and _himself_ that he was no simple _victim_.

Damien grinned, eyes sparkling with promise as he whipped Kyle around and shoved him back. Kyle hissed as he slammed onto the rock, his skull ricocheting with a nauseating vibration. A gasp was brutally beaten down as Damien forced his way between his dangling legs and leaned over him. Kyle's jaw trembled, _despising_ the low simmer of Damien's lust pervading between them. "First thing's first," he declared, a palm sliding up Kyle's hip and waist, trailing further until coming to a stop atop his forehead, keeping him still. Kyle watched, chest aflutter with worry as that damning red glow seemed to penetrate his defenses all over again. _"Revoco,"_ Damien purred, hand tightening atop his skull. Kyle's body wracked with a small convulsion, losing a yelping gasp amid his bewilderment. Damien watched, beyond thrilled at an eye beginning to match his own, teeth struggling to hold onto Kyle's order and follow Damien's. _"There he is_ ," he sang under his breath, beyond enthralled at the art that he had created reforming right before his very eyes. Mortality didn't suit Kyle, he thought. He handled the power influx too well to want to represent something so _weak_.

Kyle settled onto the slab with a groan, nerves firing warning that he was traipsing too close to pain, that they knew it was incoming after this initial display. A simple cover-up spell being repealed left him exhausted. He wondered how awful it would be for _more_ power to be ripped from his body.

He didn't want to know.

Damien hummed, hand sliding back down to Kyle's hip as he readjusted to being back in his default form. A forked tongue clicked, slipping into Kyle's pocket and ripping out his phone, turning it in his hand. "You won't be needing your little warning timers," he informed him, waiting for Kyle to finally look at him once again and grinning. "You're staying _as I made you_." His claws broke through the screen and Kyle sneered.

"Stop breaking my _fucking_ phones," he snapped, flinching as Damien threw the useless plastic off and away, leaning back over him. They stared in silence at one another, the tension mounting and Kyle unable to halt his shaking. This was too much all at once. He'd always thought if Damien came back for him, it'd be no sweat, that Kenny would be by his side throughout every moment and they'd take him down once and for all. He didn't account for this, didn't want to _imagine_ how cornered he could get. Maybe it kept him sane, maybe it just made him grossly unprepared. "Did you really fucking _drag me out here_ to take away something that'd go away on its own anyway?!" he bit.

He shook his head, a gleam slashing through rubies. "Oh, no no no. That's merely step one. And… that's just for _my_ benefit."

"Everything is _always_ for your benefit you spoiled sack of shit!" Kyle barked.

Damien smirked, hand moving up to cup his face. "Very good. You remember," he praised. "What you're here for is _much_ more than _aesthetic_ , little mouse. You're coming back to _me_."

Kyle scowled, "Feel like you need _God_ for that little trick since He's the one calling the shots on me."

He cocked a superior brow. "Are you familiar with the phrase _selling your soul to the devil_?" he questioned. "Willingly handing over control takes it out of His hands. Most _He_ can do is send one of those prissy bitches like your little _husband_ to convince you otherwise." He paused, grinning. "But, you don't even get _that_ option. It's _all_ up to you and just how much you're willing to do for your daughter."

He blinked quickly, fingers twitching and regrown claws poking into his palms. Anything. He'd do goddamn _anything_ to get her out.

He just didn't want to know what path that would take him down.

Kyle swallowed a throatful of pride, shivering. "What do you want?"

Damien's smirk grew darker, hearing an echo of the past, just as famished as he'd been so long ago in a cave with a nearly disabled Kyle. The tears, the utter _horror_. He could have it again. He could have it _all_ again. _"You_ ," he purred, claws running down a heated cheek.

Kyle was nauseous at such a familiar riposte, right back to the weakest he'd ever felt, right back to where he officially thought his life was over and he could never be clean again. Right back to nightmares of being held down by shadows, of Kenny unable to get to him and help him. Of having to just _accept his fate_. He didn't know if he could do it all over again, didn't know if he could face those pitying expressions, the tiptoeing Kenny had had to adapt to once they got home. He was a survivor, that's what his husband called him. Never a victim, never anything less than his _fighter_.

Kyle just didn't know how much fight he could have left, how much more Damien could tear down from the inside out. It'd taken three years for the nightmares to finally slow their stride to a near halt. He wondered how long it could possibly take the second time around.

Red and green eyes slipped shut, breath staggering at Damien continuing to so casually touch him, taking an ownership that even Kenny wasn't so bold about asserting. He wasn't stupid, he had _no_ choices. Kat was out there, scared and confused out of her mind. He just wanted to stall, wanted to pretend that Heaven already had their plan and were ready to come get them out. But this was just too delicate an operation, it could _never_ be so easy. Never for him.

"… _Fine,"_ he whispered, cringing at fingers curling in excitement along his face.

"Good boy," he cooed, claws slipping along crimson curls and ripping him up to sit.

Kyle flinched at the feeling of his cuffs being torn off his wrists, looking down at his freed hands and flexing his fingers. He could fight. He _could_. He could call Damien's bluff, think that Gragor would never know. They could just go at it fang-and-claw until one of them was beyond repair…

Not with Kat on the line, he reminded himself quietly. Far too much at stake.

"Look at me," Damien grinned, tipping his chin up. Kyle took a deep, steadying breath before doing as told, instantly locked in a possessive grip that he knew was nothing short of staining on his psyche. Damien's other hand came up, Kyle lingering on Resurrection's scars embedded into the flesh and grimacing. So close.

They'd been _so close_.

A sudden materialization formed in the empty palm, Kyle blinking at a dagger popping before him. He gulped, knowing the _original_ was still in Heaven, abandoned as Damien had been dragged away. It was a reminder, a story prop. It was something kept far out of Kyle and Kenny's sights if it could be managed. This one seemed even older, the handle a tarnished, muddy silver and a chip missing out of one of the encrusted jewels. "Lucky you," Damien took his attention back. "You don't even have to _summon me_. You get to jump to the _best_ part."

He shoved the dagger into Kyle's hand, watching him look at it in a tantalizing mixture of rage and defeat, fear and that stubborn fire that could never seem to be doused. The grip bit into Kyle's palm, a tightening fist digging it deeper into his pentagram, entire body reviling such an item as a toxin. "What is the point of this?" he muttered, staring at the blade with hazed eyes.

Damien smirked. "A few things. If you _foolishly_ decide to go against our agreement and try to escape with your little runt, I can call you right back and snap _both_ your necks. And so when you die, you don't get to go to _Heaven_ and cry to McCormick _._ You get to come right back to _me_."

He narrowed his eyes, looking at his assuredness with caution. "What do you mean _when_?"

He grinned, "That's for later. Now. Shall we get started?"

Kyle growled under his breath. "Fine."

"Good. Cut your hand, and deep. I need blood that you draw on your own."

He glanced down at his free palm, seeing the mirroring mark he shared with Kenny and shaking his head. The dagger traded hands, Kyle unable to let himself mar one of the few reminders that he wasn't by himself in this disaster. He held the blade to the pentagram, pausing with a tremor running through his arm. "What does this change?" he asked.

"Hmm?" Damien cocked his brow, too distracted waiting for blood to spill to catch his words.

Kyle's eyes flickered up to meet his. "This agreement. What does it change regarding me?"

"Nothing but ownership, little mouse. If I could take that _heavenly_ bullshit out of you, trust me, I fucking would. But… it may come in handy," he shrugged lazily. "Everything stays the same, except that you belong to me again."

"You never fucking owned me. And this doesn't change that," he sneered. "God doesn't fucking _own me_ either. Controlling where I fucking go when I die doesn't mean jack _shit_. I've told you before and I'll fucking tell you again: I'm not the property of _anyone_."

Damien watched the fury, the _betrayal_ splashing through his corneas, a sly grin creeping up his face and elation rising in his chest. "Oh. You _hate_ Him right now. Don't you?" Kyle paused and he barked out a cruel laugh. "Bet He _promised_ to keep your little runt safe, didn't He? Promised I'd _never_ touch her. It's the only reason you even have her. Isn't it?" He cupped Kyle's chin, loving the subtle twitches of his profile as his thumb's claw scratched along his cheek. "Little mouse, I didn't _know_ you were going to have a crisis of faith over this," he jeered.

"I'm not," he said steadily. "Kind of fucking hard to when I'm on a first name basis with Him."

"Just because you know He exists doesn't mean you believe in Him," he countered. "You don't think He can do anything to help you. _Again_. He's going to sit in His little watchtower and just watch you _suffer_ all over again. Doing nothing but offering sympathy, telling McCormick that _you'll_ figure out what to do about it all. What kind of God is that?"

Kyle scowled, taking his head back. "He's not there to fight."

"No. Instead He gets McCormick to do it for Him. Him and those seven other winged pussies. Can't even fight His own wars, drags your _family_ into it instead. He's the reason you're a recluse. Why you're so _afraid_ of the world turning its back on you."

Fangs gritted in frustration. "He's not the one who _poisoned_ me."

"He's just the one who set the chain into motion. Didn't He? If He'd fought His own war, McCormick and yourself would've been none the wiser. Could've been happy. Which, would've been _tragic_. Because then _I_ never would've gotten a hold on you."

Kyle's anger hit a critical spike, the truth and disgust of the matter slamming into him like a blizzard, left eye springing with light and hair bristling. The need to attack was fierce, to defend his dignity, his family, his faith.

"May want to reconsider," Damien warned him, voice far too calm for the levels of resentment spawning between them. "Remember: You're not the only one who gets _hurt_ if you fight this time. Cut your hand. _Now_."

With great apprehension, the embers in his iris faded back down, and he forced his shoulders to slump. He hated this. _He hated this_. He should've goddamn listened to Stan in high school when he'd suggested Kyle take up goddamn meditation to learn to get his fiery temper under control. Lord knew that he needed that level-headedness before he destroyed everything in his life. He let out a long, frustrated sigh, swiping the blade through his pentagram, wincing at the skin so compliantly splitting open and filling his palm with tainted blood. He stared as it moved to drip between the webbing of his fingers, how _dark_ and _evil_ it looked. Kenny and Kat would scrape their knees, the world greeting the shade of roses. Not Kyle. Nicks from shaving and being bumped with a kitchen knife in his hand brought out a color Kenny had once described as black cherries.

It was an apt comparison. Bitter and inconvenient to work around, clustered and _not the status quo._

He let out a small grunt of surprise as his wrist was snatched, looking up at Damien so hungrily focused on his wound. _'He's going to kill me,'_ Kyle decided, drooping in exhaustion. _'Over and over. He just wants to watch me die.'_ Whether through gradually chipping away at him until he was a shell or just clawing him through the throat, he wasn't sure. But it was unavoidable, that much was clear.

A claw dug into the gash, Kyle wincing and fingers curling reflexively as he nestled in the muscle. They stood in silence for a few moments, Kyle quickly losing his tolerance. "Are you doing this or not?!" he snapped.

Damien smirked. "I don't think you understand. _You_ have to make the contract." He leaned down towards Kyle's face and grinned. "So. Tell me: What is it you want to _protect_?"

Kyle considered, wondering if he could slip in an _'everyone and everything sans you'_ and get away with it. But he could see something brewing, a storm on the horizon. Damien wasn't just here for his capture. There was something _much_ larger at stake that he would never let Kyle contractually avoid. He only had the next best thing he might be able to collectively name. "My family," he muttered.

Fangs clacked in thought, Damien nodding slowly. "I'll allow it. I'm feeling _generous_." Kyle rolled his eyes, whimpering at another firm press into his hand. "And… _what_ are you willing to give for this arrangement?" he purred, eyes alit with thrill.

He glanced at the hand in Damien's grasp, the bloodstained silver ring situated on his fourth finger. He wondered how Kenny would view this. If he'd be screaming for him to stop, or if he'd be miserably nodding, knowing that they were out of alternatives for the time being. Kyle just wished he didn't have to do this alone. Not again.

In a meek whisper, echoing in his head like a sonic boom, he locked into that eager stare and held back a quiver. "Me."

" _All_ of you?" Damien pressed, giving him a warning squeeze to watch his snarky mouth.

"Yes."

" _Good_ boy," he praised, free hand slamming up and grabbing his throat, twisting him with a staccato screech of surprise to slam down lengthwise onto the slab, his dagger falling to the cracked ground with a subtle _clang_. A fire awoke in his stare, expression what Kyle could only describe as _crazed. "Hoc animus est datum,"_ he hissed, pressing against Kyle's throat until his lips parted in a choked cry, moving with one knee atop the block to hover over him. " _Hoc corpore est datum._ "

Kyle's eyes went wide, nerves dancing on edge and a effervescent shock rushing through his limbs, congregating at his chest. His wounds spilled more blood as his heart rate rose, feeling dizzier and weaker than he had in _years_. Instinct was screaming for his power to protect him, but he couldn't seem to find the ability to tap into it, mind too muddled with burning and vicious, glowing eyes.

" _Haec potentia est datum,"_ Damien continued, mouth twitching in a maniacal grin. _"Accipio."_ He grunted, a warm rush swelling through his fingers, melting against Kyle's neck and into his bloodstream. _"Hoc est servus,"_ He declared. _"Qui repraesentat quatuor. Quod album, et rubeum, et nigrum, et pallidus. In mea potestate et demanda."_

Kyle screamed, arching as the parasite inside his chest blazed with heat, wrapped around his organs with blinding pain. Damien kept his head tilted up, unable to see anything but that malicious gaze staring him down, wondering if he was reaching into his chest and literally tearing out his beating heart. His body couldn't help itself, kicking and balking, eyes flooding with tears and unable to recognize Damien straddling over him to keep him down firmer, grinning at him so cruelly. He was dying, his mind decreed, a louder declaration than it'd asserted in his initial poisoning. He was so sure. He was leaving Kenny a widower, Kat without her dad, Valefor without his owner.

Damien shook his head, amused at his resistance. "Stubborn little mouse," he murmured, watching Kyle unconsciously fighting, twitching and choking. "Bet it hurts. Bet it's just _killing you_." He leaned down, turning Kyle's head and moving to breathe against his ear, feeling that involuntary shudder rush down his struggling form. "You're only allowed to die when I say so," he informed him. "And you fucking will." He paused, lips spreading in a fanged grin. "Wonder if McCormick will hold back killing you this time. You're not gonna give him much reason to stop."

The words held no meaning, but the grating tone sent a rush of foreboding through Kyle's subconscious. He yelped, tears leaking out of his eyes as his inner bindings seemed to snap, rushing in his bloodstream and organs, settling in different pieces. Another marionette trick, Kyle thought wearily, brain trying to find its function. He was a puppet again. Felt the same. He could feel Damien's hold, could feel nothing but heat and dismay. Parts of him were being plucked, his body an orchestra for his captor to conduct.

He attempted a wheezing breath, his struggles simmering with each separate piece of the puzzle falling into their chosen places, Damien's hold on his throat loosening just enough for him to remember how to work his lungs. His eyelids drooped, confusion settling in as he waded through a tepid tide of fatigue. Trying to lift his free arm, he whimpered as his fingers barely left the stone, muscles refusing to comply.

Damien chuckled, taking his finger from Kyle's leaking palm, tonguing off the blood and watching him with delight. "You'll be fine," he assured him, petting along his jawline. "Just have to sleep it off." Selling one's soul was never an easy burden for the body to take, the few mortals that'd taken up such an offer falling weak for days or weeks on end after their agreements. Kyle probably could have just been a little off his game had he gone into this with full strength, but Damien wasn't willing to risk what a tired mouse could unwittingly do when cornered. After all, he'd had _such_ a long day, Damien figured he'd _earned_ some rest by being so _good_ and _cooperative._

He hummed, hopping off from over-top of him and bending down to pick up his dagger and Kyle's chains, meeting that half-lidded stare. "So good," he taunted. "If you _stay_ good, I'll even let you see your runt once you wake up. It's all give and take from here on out, little one"

Kyle could barely comprehend him, worn mind focused on telling him to fight his way up and run. But he just couldn't, his limbs seemed to weigh _so_ much. He groaned, trying to grip the rock as Damien so nonchalantly moved to pick him up from his supine position. He hefted him into his arms and snorted, feeling the light sway of Kyle attempting to force himself to struggle away. A wave of violent dizziness slammed into him and he whimpered, head lolling into Damien's shoulder and his eyes slipping closed. Damien felt him limbering as unconsciousness began dragging him into the darkness, letting out a satisfied hum and staring at the ground.

Casually, he slipped down into the shadowed portal appearing before him, he and Kyle falling with ease through the chasm. He couldn't help the excitement spreading through his chest. This had gone _too_ smoothly. Even overconfidence couldn't have predicted it'd be _so_ flawless, that Kyle would already be struggling with knowing who he could trust at this point. The man just felt too much, couldn't distance himself enough to keep himself protected from the risks of his family, his friends, _his god_.

Worked well enough for Damien as far as he was concerned.

A jerk of Damien's head shooed stray bangs from his eyes, looking down at Kyle's limp, cradled, and bleeding form, unable to help his laugh. He could only hope everything else would play so smoothly in this game. He glanced up at the approaching end, smacking his lips and readjusting Kyle in his grip. He smirked, feeling Kyle falling into the crook of his neck, imagining the _disgust_ he'd be demonstrating were he awake, the pure _anger_ that his husband would be feeling seeing him in such a position.

He squinted in the slightest as they came to the low lighting of their destination, Damien effortlessly popping out of the ground into his room, cracking his neck and sighing happily. This felt _right_ , holding all the cards, playing his pawns as he saw fit. This power was one he relished in, one that he hadn't experienced for far, _far_ too long. But the times were changing, and he had his ironclad lock.

With ease in his step, he moved across the floor, letting Kyle drop from his arms into a bowed pile on the bed. Kyle didn't so much as make a sound, too far gone and out to awaken for anything. Damien tongued over his lips at the notion, a hand falling so possessively on Kyle's hip, squeezing with need. A need to get out his frustrations, take back more of what he'd earned. He made a small sound of consideration, shoving Kyle onto his back and leaning over him. Fingers twitching, they slid through curls of nostalgia, tilting his head back and pulling him up, eyes flickering to his exposed neck ripe with his mark. He wanted to make more, wanted Kyle to wake up bare and bruised, breaking down that he'd been defenseless to protect himself… But no. Not while Kyle didn't know, not while he couldn't _fight_ or _agonize_ over what he was being put through.

That just took all the fun out of it.

Instead, he opted to grip Kyle's still-bleeding pentagram with his own, squeezing them tightly together. He let out a long, pleased breath as Kyle's palm melded back into one piece, a throb ricocheting between their matching marks. Damien took his hand back, laying Kyle back down onto the mattress and looking between his own throbbing symbol and an innocent, unknowing face, smirking.

Steps one and two were oh-so-easily marked off his list already. Next step was all on him and a demon who'd been working on his pet project for nearly six months, ready and waiting for Damien to take what he'd demanded. He slid off the bed, gripping Kyle's discarded chain and snapping both cuffs around his lifeless right wrist. "Just wait until you wake up," he murmured, pushing back a lock of hair obscuring closed eyes, his own twinkling with the promise of the future he'd so precisely laid out for his little _mutt_. "Tomorrow's hunt won't be as easy on you as this was."

* * *

 _ **A/N – Translations:**_

 _Revoco - Retract_

 _Hoc animus est datum- This soul has been given_

 _Hoc corpore est datum – This body has been given_

 _Haec potentia est datum - This power has been given_

 _Accipio – I accept_

 _Hoc est servus – This is the servant_

 _Qui repraesentat quatuor – Who represents four_

 _Quod album, et rubeum, et nigrum, et pallidus – This is the white, the red, the black, and the pale_

 _In mea potestate et demanda – In my power and demand_

 _ **I'm gonna blame all these damn Latin things in this story for why it's taking so long mkay? Mkay. Thanks for R &Ring!**_


End file.
